


Of coffee mugs and shared bedsheets

by nupoxsi



Category: Ylvis
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Wives No Kids, Brotherly Love, Declarations Of Love, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sibling Incest, Slow Build, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Year Gaps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:26:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 90,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2769608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nupoxsi/pseuds/nupoxsi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love can knock at your door at any age, at any given time, completely without a warning. For some people it happens during their teen years, others have to wait their entire lives to find the right person, and the lucky ones have always known where love has been the whole time. For Vegard, the word love has always been linked with Bård’s name, and he’s been one of the lucky ones without even realising.</p><p>But who’s ever said love is an easy thing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. .i

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I’ve been wanting to write for a while, and after thinking about it for some days, I said ‘why the fuck shouldn’t I give it a try’, so here it is. Quite proud of myself because this will be the first chaptered fic I actually write on my own and get to finish (yeah, I’ve got many commitment issues), and here it is!
> 
> Please bear with me, I play with some facts from real life, but this is not entirely based on canon. I took the liberties to play with everything a little bit. I’ll also change the rating (when needed) and add the correspondent tags with every chapter update :)
> 
> A thousand of kudos to [Abigail](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kolaflor/), [Valentina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/take_a_bow06/) and [My Norka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/huangzitao/) for being amazing at listening to my ramblings at 2 AM and reading some excerpts of this work for weeks now. Thank y’all, you are the best! ♥ 
> 
> Disclaimer: did not happen, all of the following is a work of fiction.

  _1996_

 

It’s early in the morning when Vegard wakes up. The covers are too warm and the soft pillows under his head are inviting him to stay for a little longer. He decides to relax for five minutes or six. It’s a Saturday, after all, so there is no hurry to be up yet, nor does he need to be somewhere else. Vegard blinks as his eyes set on the ceiling above him. He wants to remember what the was dreaming of, mostly because he remembers there was a mime involved. Mimes are cool. However, he gives up easily on that task. The only images he’s got in his head are the ones of the mime asking him where to buy a ladder by using mimics, and then going to the airport. Deciding he does not want to keep remembering his dream, Vegard finally pulls the cover off him and gets out of the bed.

After he’s done brushing his teeth and making his bed, Vegard gets himself downstairs with ease. He walks energetically into the kitchen to find Bård already sitting at the table and smiling from ear to ear. It’s weird enough to see his brother awake before seven AM on weekends, so judging by his cheeky grin Vegard suspects he might be up to something. His mother is also in the kitchen, wearing a white apron with several handprints in different colours, the one that was made by Bård and Vegard when they were little and had a creative outburst. It’s a wonder how she still has that old thing, a rather nice gesture to keep on using it even when her sons are grown ups now. Smiling to himself, Vegard stops by her side on his way into the kitchen, placing a sweet peck on her cheek.

“Good morning, honey,” she says, offering him a welcoming smile that he soon reciprocates.

“Morning,” Vegard echoes after her, but his gaze is now fixed on his brother, who’s curiously looking over at them with that silly grin still plastered on his face.

Vegard walks towards the cupboard and grabs a bowl before sitting on the table across from his brother. Bård’s hair is but a bit longer than it’s been in a while, the messy strands of hair pointing at every direction. Has Bård even taken a second to check himself on the mirror before coming downstairs to get breakfast? Vegard doubts it, he knows Bård is not an early bird, so he simply chuckles to himself at the image of his brother he has before him.  Any other morning, Bård would have noticed his incoherent laughter and question him until Vegard gave away what was on his mind, but today is different. Bård simply sits across from him and keeps chewing on his sandwich, radiating with joy.

“Good morning, Bård,” he says, and all he gets is a nod from the boy with the golden hair. “You are beaming this morning,” Vegard points out while he grabs the cereal box from the table.

“I am.” Bård’s eyes are bright as they meet Vegard’s, eyebrows lifted upwards in excitement. He bites into his sandwich again, possibly wanting to create a bit of mystery between them, and his legs start moving under the table, creating a soft tremor on the surface of the table. “Very happy.”

Vegard instantly knows what Bård wants of him, so he indulges him. “Really? Why?”

“Nah, you don’t want to know.”

“Come on, tell me,” he pushes for an answer, noticing how Bård’s smile grows wider as he drinks orange juice from his glass. “I’m dying to know.”

“Well, if you truly want to know…” Bård puts the sandwich back on the plate and places a cold hand on Vegard’s forearm, shaking it in excitement. “Mom finally agreed on letting me go to the concert! Can you believe it?”

 _Oh, of course!_ Vegard smiles at the cheerful tone in Bård’s voice and feels infected by his happiness too. He knows how much his brother wants to attend said concert, a band he’s followed very closely ever since they were back in Norway. He believes it can be Bård’s favourite band, even. Bård is quite insistent on playing their songs whenever the two of them are practicing on the guitars, which has lead Vegard to like and learn some of their tunes by heart now. In spite of not being quite a fan of the band himself, he can admit he’s grown fond of it, merely because he knows how important they are for his brother.

The blond boy has been talking about the concert nonstop for some weeks now, and it’s truly a miracle their mother has agreed on letting him go. Bård is fourteen, after all, and Vegard can understand all of the possible worries that come with granting her son permission to attend a concert all by himself. Which was the reason he first offered of going with Bård a couple of nights ago when the later was asleep. That seemed to make her consider the possibility of letting Bård go, because it’s plainly known by everyone that if Vegard is with Bård, he’ll take care of him no matter what could happen. However, it seems she’s come to the conclusion that Bård is old enough to go alone, excluding Vegard from the picture.

“Just like that?” He asks, placing his other hand on top of Bård’s and giving it a light squeeze.

“Yeah, sort of. All I have to do is approve the maths exam on Monday and mom said she'd tell dad to drive me there and pick me up when it’s over! Isn't that amazing?"

“That’s amazing indeed, Bård,” he says with honesty, “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks. It’s great, isn’t it? My _first_ concert, Vegard.”

“I know.” He smiles. “Do you want me to come with you?” Vegard still offers, because Bård has to know he’s willing to go with him if he wants him to.

“Nah,” Bård says and turns his hand on Vegard’s arm so it clasps Vegard’s hand instead. He squeezes it back and then releases it, going for the glass of orange juice. “I know you don’t like them much. I’ll do fine by myself.”

Vegard nods. “I am sure you will.”

His brother grins widely and he’s back to happily devouring his sandwich. “I do want you to come with me to buy the ticket, though.”

“Sure,” he agrees with a wink. “Just tell me when and I’ll be there.”

Vegard feels the corners of his mouth curving into a silly smile. Seeing Bård jubilant is something he values so much, it can bring the best out of him, it lifts up his spirits. At times he remembers how hard it was at first to make Bård crack a smile when they moved back to Norway, but Vegard found his ways; making his brother laugh is a skill he has developed with the passing of the years. He learned how to tell silly jokes with ease, play some music that pleased his brother’s ears, do impersonations of actors and musicians, all that is in his power to make his brother feel better. They’ve never had much friends anyway, so relying on humour quickly turned into a daily basis activity for Vegard. And for Bård, too. The two are equally musically and humorously skilled, which is something Vegard loves. They are used to locking themselves up in a room and simply play new songs on guitar, or settling together by the piano, singing various songs while the house is all to themselves. They love it.

“Here, boys,” their mother suddenly speaks, bringing her quiet presence to notice as she places two mugs on the surface of the table.

Bård’s face lights up again. “Coffee!” He blurts out as he drags the mug closer to his face.

Vegard limits himself to behold his brother as he leans closer to the mug and takes in the marvellous scent of the fresh coffee in a deep inhale. Vegard’s heart warms up as he witnesses this. Bård can often look younger than he really is, and the kind of memories in which he acts with such pureness are the ones that Vegard hopes he can carry with him for the rest of his life.

“Thanks,” Bård and Vegard reply in unison.

“You’re very welcome,” she says with a smile.

Then, Vegard stands from the table and pads towards the fridge. Once open, he quickly retrieves the milk carton and grabs the chocolate syrup from the door shelf. He call tell Bård already knows what he is about to do ever since he stood up from the table, but that doesn’t keep Vegard from catching the glimpse of childishness in his brother’s face as he reaches for his hot mug. Vegard pours a generous amount of chocolate syrup into the hot drink, his eyes following the threads of the brown sweet as they mix with the creamy top of the coffee. When ready, Vegard puts the syrup back on the door shelf, closes the fridge’s door and goes back to falls back on the chair to pours the milk into his bowl of cereal.

“Vegard, you need to stop spoiling your brother,” their mother scolds him with her _oh-so-wise_ tone, but Vegard merely shrugs at the comment.

Perhaps he is the one who has, indeed, spoiled Bård in some kind of way throughout the years. If Vegard possesses something his brother wants, he doesn’t hesitate on giving it to Bård. But does it really matter? Vegard enjoys seeing his brother blissful, and if this time what it takes is some chocolate syrup in his coffee, Vegard would it a thousand times without hesitation.

“It’s the way he likes it,” Vegard comments as he eats a spoonful of cereal. “Let him have it.”

And Bård doesn’t say it, but when their eyes meet, Vegard knows that his brother’s small nod is a silent ‘thank you’, so he simply nods back and the brothers finish breakfast together, joking about several things while their mother smiles to herself as she cooks.

It’s a nice morning. **  
**

* * *

 

“Vegard!”

The door of his bedroom suddenly flies open and a very loud Bård Ylvisåker bursts right in without even thinking about knocking. The sheet of paper in front of Vegard is only halfway written, and along with the other four sheets he’s got racked up at the end of the desk, he can tell that’s he’s going to be done with his homework soon. That day he decided to get home earlier than Bård to work on his essay on the Svalbard Treaty, which is due next week, because if he decided to wait for Bård, it would’ve been two hours gone to waste, doing absolutely nothing productive at all. He’s aware he can work on his essay during the weekend, but he would rather for it to be done with it as soon as possible.

But his line of thought breaks, and he stops writing right in the middle of a sentence as Bård closes the door again with a loud thud. Vegard’s head shoots immediately in his direction, rolling his chair back and moving so he can face him. Bård is wearing that horrid green flannel that Vegard is sure going to burn any minute now if his brother doesn’t wash it soon. All of the sudden, Bård closes the distance between them until he’s practically standing with his legs at each side of Vegard’s, cheerfully shoving a paper to his face.

“Look!”

“I can’t look at it if you are putting it this close to my face,” Vegard replies, and it only leads Bård to practically press the sheet of paper against Vegard’s nose. He wants to be irritated at his childish behaviour, but he can’t. Bård’s giggles are contagious.

Finally, Bård takes a step backwards, and he carelessly throws the paper over Vegard’s lap. He gives his younger brother one last quizzical look before actually taking it in his hands. It’s an exam, Vegard soon comprehends, and it doesn’t take him much to put two and two together. As his eyes hover over the big and bold 6 written on the top right corner of the exam, a warm feeling of pride immediately spreads across his entire chest. Bård did it, he approved the Maths exam and with the highest grade he could get. Vegard can give the exam a further reading, do a quick and full revision in his head that would take him no more than five minutes, but instead, he places the exam over his essay and jumps to his feet.

Vegard closes the small gap between them and throws his arms over Bård’s shoulders, pulling him into an embrace. Bård giggles right into his ear as he hugs Vegard back. Bård has always been above the average in almost all of his classes, and if he keeps on getting excellent grades it’s very likely he will graduate with better grades than Vegard, which rather than jealousy generates an enormous feeling of pride and happiness in him. His arms tighten around Bård’s shoulders. Even when they hug quite often, this one is special; Vegard will never stop appreciating the moments when they get the chance to share an embrace, especially if it’s to celebrate Bård’s achievement. He loves burying his face on the crook of Bård’s neck, feeling the short strands of golden hair brushing on the inside of his neck and making him giggle involuntarily, and the way Bård doesn’t let go.

There are no words needed, they simply share this little moment and keep it to themselves.

“I knew I could do it,” Bård says joyfully once they break apart. “I didn’t aim to get the highest grade but… that’s great.”

Vegard slaps his arm playfully in return.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“You always should aim for the best, you idiot.”

Bård shoves him, but it lacks all effort to do any harm. “Be happy for me.”

“I am happy for you,” he retorts. “But I am still your brother.”

As if being in his own bedroom, Bård sits on Vegard’s bed. It is normal for them to act as if they owned the other’s bedroom, given that they spend much time together in lazy afternoons or late at night. Vegard takes the cue to sit back on back the chair, and gives a glance back at the desk. Under Bård’s exam, his essay remains unfinished. He moves the exam and tries to remember where he left off, but it’s impossible, he’s lost the inspiration, yet he doesn’t feel guilt nor shame about it; Bård’s news are more important. Instead of trying to get his mind back on the Svalbard Treaty, Vegard rolls on the chair to face Bård.

“When are we buying the ticket?” Vegard asks, amused.

“I don’t know,” he confesses with a small shrug. “I was thinking we could go now that mom has picked Bjarte up already and we can borrow the car, but if you’re busy we can go tomorrow.”

“I’m not busy,” Vegard retorts immediately.

“You are clearly doing something, which means you’re not free.”

“Yeah, but…”

Putting things on a balance, there’s no doubt which of the two is more significant to him. And not only because the essay isn’t due tomorrow; if Vegard had to hand it to his teacher the next day, his decision would still remain the same. He knows what to do, he knows what both his mind and heart are telling him to do. His brother’s happiness is before his homework, before most things in his life.  

“Do you carry the money on you?” Vegard inquires.

He nods. “Yes, I picked it up before coming here.”

Vegard finds himself nodding too. He stands from the chair, stretching his muscles a bit and noticing Bård’s curious eyes are on him. His shoulders feel a bit tense, he’s been sitting at his desk for at least an hour now, and a time out would actually do some good to him. With two long steps, Vegard approaches Bård, extending his arm and offering his hand to him, which the younger brother takes without wasting any time to wonder why. “Come on, let’s go now.”

Dragging Bård with him, Vegard grabs a grey jumper from the inside of his closet and throws it over his shoulder. Bård keeps on holding onto his hand even once they are outside the bedroom, and he only lets go when they reach the top of the stairs. Vegard allows him to go down first, noticing the way he climbs down two steps at once. He giggles, his brother is way too excited. Vegard follows right after him, stopping by Bård’s side once they are about to walk into the living room. Sitting on the couch, their mother has her glasses on and a book is resting on the arm of the couch, a look of concentration glued to her face. He turns, and Vegard’s eyes drift back to his brother, who has been staring at their mother too.

“Do you want to tell her yourself?” Vegard asks, lifting his eyebrows in a comical way.

“I already did, just to make sure she remembered.” Bård’s voice is low, and Vegard looks over his shoulder to confirm their mother hasn’t noticed their presence. “Haven’t asked her about the car, though.”

 _Usual Bård_. Vegard chuckles, and throws an arm around his slender shoulders. “Do you want me to ask her?”

“Yeah,” he says and offers him a nod. “It’s better if you do.”

Vegard thinks it’s the same, really, but he knows Bård choses to remain silent and let Vegard do the talking. He nods again, and with his arm still around Bård’s shoulders he heads towards his mother, pulling his brother along with him. They’ve done this so many times before, and it’s quite usual for them to feel a bit nervous in expectation, but Vegard realises it’s just like acting at the school theatre, he needs to keep a nice face on and use words that have been previously rehearsed during practices. They walk side by side, and Vegard only lets go of him when their mother’s blue eyes are looking up at him, a kind smile on her face. It is crystal clear she instantly knows they are up to something, so she grabs a bookmark from her lap and puts it in her book to mark the page.

“Hi,” they speak at the same time.

“Hello, boys,” she says, happiness present in her voice. “What can I help you with?”

“Well, Bård told me he showed you the exam already,” Vegard begins, keeping the smile on his face as he speaks. He’s also learnt throughout the years that the best way of getting a yes from his parents is keeping a cool attitude, waiting a little to ask them for what he wants. “He approved it, best grade he could get.”

“Yes.” She smiles back, and reaches to hold Bård’s hand for some seconds. “I am proud of you.”

Bård mumbles a shy _‘thanks’_ , sounding just like a child. “So,” Vegard continues, “I was wondering if we could borrow the car for a couple of hours?” He smiles, and uses his responsible older brother voice to which he knows she rarely says no to. “I told Bård I’d go with him, and since Bjarte is already here, I figured it would be okay if we go now.”

She frowns. “Isn’t it too late, Vegard? Wouldn’t it be wiser to wait till tomorrow?”

“Nah,” he replies, conscious of Bård’s stillness at his side. “We’ll be here before dinner, I promise. And I’ll be the one driving.”

“Of course you’ll be the one driving,” she replies, and he can feel the warning in her voice, but then she’s standing up from the couch, and Vegard knows they’ve already won.

He moves to stop blocking her way to the clothes rack, where she keeps her purse, and his eyes search for Bård’s. The boy keeps an unmistakable yet small grin in his face, the one that reflects Bård already knows what’s in Vegard’s mind. He motions with his head in their mother’s direction, and Bård nods back, immediately trailing after her. Making sure the jumper over his shoulder doesn’t fall as he walks, Vegard follows them, hands settled on top of Bård’s shoulders, squeezing them in excitement.

“Easy, huh?” He whispers into his brother’s ear, convinced their mother isn’t able to hear him, and the giggle that escapes Bård’s mouth doesn’t come unnoticed.

They stop right before the front door, and they wait for their mother to stop rummaging through her purse and turn around to face them. She’s trying not to crack a smile, the older brother notices, but she fails as Bård jumps over her to give her a hug. Vegard feels the urges to join into the hug too, but he decides not to. It’s better to let Bård have this moment. He lets go of her soon enough and steps back, allowing Vegard to take a step forward, standing right in front of Bård. He is able to feel his brother’s breathing on the back of his neck, hot puffs of air that make him shudder involuntarily.

“Be careful,” is all she says before handing Vegard the keys and going back to the living room.

“Will do!” Vegard exclaims a bit too loudly as she disappears.

He considers going upstairs and grabbing some money before going out, but he rules out the option as Bård’s shoulder clashes against his own and he becomes aware of how eager Bård is. Vegard chuckles to himself, and proceeds to put on the jumper. The key-chain jingles in his hand as he pulls the sleeves up her wrists, and he turns to look at his brother.

“Shall we go now?”

Bård opens the front door and takes a step outside, holding the door open for him. “You don’t really have to ask.”

They both get into the car once outside, and the drive to the place is incredible. They joke and laugh for solid minutes, Bård rambles on and on about how good their presentation will be, and Vegard listens eagerly, teasing him every now on and then. He likes— _loves_ spending time with Bård like this, both brothers being at the best of their moods, Vegard keeping one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the back of Bård’s seat, the two of them singing at the top of their lungs to an old Iron Maiden cassette that Vegard places on the player. It’s amazing.

As chilly air blows on his face, he thinks there’s no place he’d rather be than at his brother’s side.

 

* * *

 

He should probably be doing the Physics paper he’s been neglecting ever since two days ago, but Vegard has been caught up in a book about aerodynamic and hydraulic research in the past fifty years. He’s been thrown over the living room couch for the past three hours, only taking small breaks to get snacks and check on Bjarte as the little one watched cartoons earlier in the day. Devouring a five hundred pages book in a day gives him quite a gratifying sensation all over his body. He feels pleased with himself, achieving the new information in his mind for future reference.

Vegard isn’t a book eater kind of person, but he does enjoy a good lecture, either if it’s a book, a magazine, or even an article he finds on the newspaper. It’s a piece of information that might come in handy in the future, or something he’ll even forget later, but if he finds it interesting at the moment, he’s able to get through with the reading without taking in mind the length of the text. And this time he is really into his lecture, or at least he is until his brother’s loud and melodious whistling catches Vegard’s attention, breaking his line of thought. He tears his gaze off the book and searches for his brother, soon finding him coming into the living room.

His hair is wet from the shower, now seeming at least three shades darker than it really is, and as he gets closer the faint smell of his cologne get to Vegard’s senses. He looks good, Vegard realises. White t-shirt, a black leather jacket and some dark jeans. Bård looks so much older than his fourteen years, and from where Vegard sits, Bård appears to be even taller.

“Ready for the big night?” He asks as Bård stops right by his side before going into the kitchen.

“I was born ready,” Bård replies, grinning widely. He looks incredibly good already, and the smile on his face is what it takes to make him beam with his own light. “I’ll be here at midnight, I guess.”

“Okay.” And he knows what Bård means with that. Those words really mean ‘ _wait up for me so I can tell you everything about the concert, you idiot, don’t fall asleep_ ’, and as a matter of fact, Vegard will wait up for him, even if he has to see the sun rising through his window. Who needs at least six hours of sleep every night, anyway? “You are going to have a great time,” he assures him with a keen smile.

Bård merely nods before disappearing into the kitchen.

The excitement in his brother’s mood is understandable. Vegard remembers how excited he’d been with his first concert, and how lucky he’d been to be almost in the first row. He remembers many things, such as the loud music numbing the sound of the people surrounding him, how every beat of the drum matched the beat of his own heart, and he felt it pulsing through his veins. It was an amazing experience, and he hopes it’s the same for Bård— if not better. Vegard contemplates resuming his lecture, but the voices coming from the next room reach his ears, and he finds himself listening rather than focusing on the book.

“ _That’s good, honey._ ”

“ _What time are we leaving?_ ” It’s Bård’s voice asking, and he senses the expectation and unsteadiness altogether. Vegard closes the book and throws it over his chest, telling himself that he’ll get back into reading once Bård’s gone and he’s got to spend some hours waiting for him to get back home.

“ _Where?_ ” It’s his father who answers quite absently. If Vegard has to guess, he’d say he’s reading some magazine as Bård sits further away on the kitchen table. “ _Is there something I don’t know of?_ ”

“ _The concert, dad, it’s today. Mom said you’d take me there and—_ ”

“ _Oh,_ ” their mother chimes in. She sounds somewhat alarmed and Vegard starts to feel uneasy as he recognises the tone in her voice. “ _Was it today, honey?_ ”

“ _Yes, it_ is _. Of course it is._ ”

“ _I’m so sorry. I thought it was two days from now, and your father and I made plans. We didn’t tell you in the morning because Vegard agreed to take care of Bjarte earlier, but— I am sorry, Bård._ ”

“ _What?_ ” Bård exclaims, and the sound of a chair being awfully dragged on the floor echoes through the whole house. Vegard straightens on the couch, both of his feet touching the ground. “ _What does that mean?_ ”

“ _We cannot take you there tonight, Bård._ ” His mother’s words are plain and they hold nothing back. Vegard’s hands are icy cold as he stands from the couch, letting the book fall closed, the past he was reading now lost. “ _We are leaving in fifteen minutes._ ”

“ _But— you promised me!_ ”

“ _I’m sorry, sweetheart. Please understand._ ”

But Bård can’t understand it, Vegard is well aware of that. How can he be asked to understand the situation, when the ones who committed the aggravation were their parents? There is nothing to understand, nothing to justify their actions.

The last thing he hears is Bård’s angry footsteps as he goes upstairs.

“Fuck,” Vegard mumbles in irritation.

How can their parents be like that? He is supposed to be the responsible brother, the one who agrees with their parents’ decisions most of the time, but he knows how important this is for Bård, and what hurts him the most is that they’ve already agreed on letting him go. When their mother asked him to look for Bjarte that night, he figured it was because they would be busy taking Bård to the concert, not because they already made plans on how to spend the night. Vegard feels awful, his head is starting to ache. He grabs the book from his chest and stands from the couch, going straight into the kitchen. His father’s at the table, eyes fixed on the page of a furniture magazine, as expected, while his mother is brewing some coffee. They look so carefree that Vegard can’t stop the blood from silently boiling inside.

“You had to know it was today,” Vegard says in a low voice, eyes shifting from her face to his father’s, not wanting Bård to hear, even if he’s already upstairs. “He hasn’t shut up about it for weeks.”

“I thought it was two days from now, Vegard,” she replies, voice calm and face indifferent. “Had I known it was today, I wouldn’t have made such plans.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“ _Vegard_ ,” his father warns, gaze up from the magazine. “It was a mistake.”

“It’s true, honey.”

“And what time are you leaving? Can’t I borrow the car and take him? I can even pick him up by bus, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll take care of it.”

“It’ll be too late, Vegard. And we’re leaving in…” His mother turns and her eyes flicker over the clock on the wall. “Ten minutes or less. I’m sorry, honey, we’ll have to leave it for another occasion.”

Vegard huffs. He decides he’ll leave it like that, because trying to make them understand this is a one time opportunity is fruitless. He’s rarely  been irritated at their parents’ behaviour, considering himself lucky for having parents that actually motivate him to do what he likes the most, but this is one of those rare occasions in which he can’t seem to find a way of looking at things the bright way. They simply don’t seem to care as much as Vegard does, and it makes him utterly upset.

“We still need you to look after Bjarte,” she adds, and Vegard narrows his eyes. “We’ll be back at eleven thirty.”

“Fine.”

“Please, tell Bård how sorry we are.”

 _Like hell I will_.

With nothing left to add, he turns on his heels and exits the kitchen. If he is this mad with their parents, he cannot imagine how Bård must be feeling. Vegard throws the book over the living room table before heading upstairs as fast as he can. He peeks into Bjarte’s room first, only to find the youngest of the three brothers peacefully asleep without notion of what is going on in the house. Vegard closes the door gingerly and walks until he’s in front of Bård’s room. Part of him is telling him maybe Bård wants to have some time alone, but Vegard can’t leave him by himself now. He knocks on the door before walking in, silently thankful he didn’t lock it.

The light is on, his brother sitting on his bed with his knees pressed against his chest and arms hugging his legs. The leather jacket he wore mere minutes ago now lies on the floor, and Vegard carefully picks it up before fixing his gaze on Bård again. His face is barely visible, buried in his knees, and the heavy breathing coming from him shatter Vegard’s heart. _Bård’s crying_. It’s as if all the anger inside of him is replaced by worry and the need of making everything better again. The door closes behind him almost as silently as he closed Bjarte’s, and he tries his footsteps to be almost as inaudible.

“Bård?” He calls out to him as he carefully sits beside him, placing the jacket at the bottom of the bed. Vegard doesn’t hesitate on placing a hand on Bård’s back, and that makes Bård lift his face and meet his eyes. “Hey…”

“Hey,” his brother echoes, yet his voice trembles as he speaks. He’s hurt, his face is blank, eyes watering, and Vegard wishes he could mend everything. He moves closer to Bård, until his thigh is pressed against his body. He tears his gaze off Vegard and it sets on the floor, staring vaguely at it whilst he keeps on hugging his legs. “You heard what happened?”

“Yes…” he mumbles. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Then don’t fucking say anything,” he snaps with coldness, but judging by the way Bård’s eyes are on his just mere seconds after, Vegard can tell he regrets spitting the bitter words. He _knows_ that, so the hand he keeps on his back travels upwards until it sets on the back of Bård’s neck. “I’m sorry, Vegard, I—…”

“It's okay, Bård, I know,” he says, trying to sound as comforting as possible. He sees the tears threatening to spill from Bård’s blue eyes, and he feels his heart breaking again. His fingers tangle loosely in his short locks, thumb caressing his nape in circular motions. “You can cry, you know? It’s okay to cry. It would help you to get all of those feelings out of your chest.”

“Don’t me it’s okay to cry, can you?” Bård hisses with a broken voice, his gaze falling back to the bedroom floor. “I know I am old enough to handle this way better that I’m doing now— but it is not fair, Vegard, I did what she asked me to do and— and it is not fucking fair”

He nods. Vegard knows that. He knows it’s not fair, knows his brother has earned the ticket to that concert more than anyone else, knows that if there’s anything in his power he could do to help Bård, he’d do it without hesitation. But sadly, there is no way of getting him there in time. Their parents have the car and it’s a long way there to go walking by themselves, and taking the bus stopped being an option. Vegard feels helpless. All he wants is Bård to be happy again, to smile and laugh like he's been doing the last couple of weeks.

The hand he keeps on Bård’s nape slowly slips down to his shoulders, and soon Vegard is wrapping his arm around Bård’s slender shoulders. The motion makes Bård instantly look back at him, eyes still watery and mouth slightly parted, as if he's seeking for the right words to say. Despite this, Vegard knows that what needs to be done lacks of words. “Come here.” With a slow tug, he pulls Bård into his arms, hugging him tightly against his chest. He buries his face on the crook of his neck, and feels Bård doing the same just in mere seconds, letting go of his legs and circling his arms around Vegard.

They stay like that for a while, and Vegard hears the sound of the engine of the cars starting in the front yard. It’s the last thing he wants to hear, and he guesses it’s the same for Bård, but they’re both there and there’s nothing they can do to change the events. He holds him close, and eventually Vegard becomes aware of the wetness in his neck as Bård’s face presses against his skin, taking in notice that he _is_ crying now, so he only tries to keep Bård pressed close to himself and hold him there for as long as possible. It's been such a long time since Vegard comforted his brother like this, _ages_. He knows it is a little difficult for Bård to open up when he is hurt, but he always does his best to reach for his brother and let him now he can always rely on him, for _anything_. Vegard has always tried to protect him, and whenever he fails —because he knows he’s failed Bård a couple of times, he isn’t perfect—, he tries to be there to mend Bård's wounds, to kiss all of his bruises better. It's something that's never going to change.

“I know it’s not fair, but I guess that’s the way life is sometimes. It really sucks,” Vegard whispers as he runs his fingers between locks of hair. “Yet it’s not the end of the world. You’re going to be able to go to other concerts, I am sure of that. Perhaps not now, but you will.” And what Vegard means is that he will make sure it happens, no matter what it takes. He closes his eyes, hoping his brother understands how much he means those words. “And I want you to remember that no matter how shitty life might get, you'll always have me.”

Bård gives a weak chuckle as Vegard begins to let go of his body.

“I mean it,” he repeats. “I might not say these things often enough, but it’s true. Even if in the future you get annoying as fuck and I get sick and tired of you, I'll never stop being there for you.”

“How do you know I'll be the one being annoying and not you?” Bård retorts, quirking a quizzical eyebrow at him. “You are the one obsessed with planes and geography.”

“Says the one who memorised the Nations of the World song in less than three days,” Vegard shoots back.

It's the first time Vegard sees him smiling since his mother told him the news, and the smile lights a fire in Vegard’s heart.

“Shut up, you know it too.” Bård moves so he is leaning against the wall. “Thanks, though.”

Vegard waves a hand at him. “I didn't say anything you didn't know already.”

“Still…” Bård’s cheeks are pink, and for a second Vegard wonders whether it’s due to the crying or if he’s actually blushing. _Doesn’t matter_ , he decides, Bård looks cute as heck with some colour up his cheeks. “I really wanted to go, Vegard.”

He wants to say that he knows, but he’s said it already, it isn’t as if those words magically fixed everything. Vegard wishes there’s something he could do, some way to bring Bård the concert, anything to lift Bård’s spirits up. And then, oh, a small idea pops on the back of his mind.

“Hey, I've got an idea!” Vegard exclaims all of the sudden and jumps off the bed. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

Bård simply hums as he pulls a pillow from the top of bed and throws it in the middle of the mattress before letting himself fall over the duvet. With his legs hanging from the border of the bed, Bård’s body is laid on the mattress, his head is occupying half the pillow, which means the remaining half is saved for Vegard. Vegard eyes him for a couple of seconds just to make sure he is alright before turning his back on him and crossing the hallway to go into his own bedroom.

The room is dark, but Vegard doesn’t bother to turn on the lights, he walks rights towards his desk and looks into one of the drawers. In between some books, post-its and pens he doesn’t really use, he finds his portable CD player, a gift he’d gotten for his birthday and that he uses quite often. Vegard enjoys lying on the bedroom floor with earphones on and simply take some time to enjoy music. It’s always better when Bård is there to make him company, they both share a similar taste in music, so most of the time they end on rambling over which track of the album is better, which has the best vocals, which is the most catchy, and the list goes on and on. It’s one of the best ways of spending some time to relax. Vegard picks up the discman and goes back into Bård’s room.

He finds him just as he’s left him; thrown over the bed and with an inviting vacant spot to his left, one that’s saved just for him. Vegard closes the door behind him as he walks in, and one of Bård’s eyelids instantly flies open. Vegard simply offers him a reassuring and genuine grin before continuing to the younger’s desk. In there, Vegard finds some CDs piled up one on top of the other, the ones Bård has spent a good amount of time collecting. Vegard got him his first CD, U2’s ‘ _Joshua Tree_ ’ some years from now, and ever since Bård has been collecting some of his favourite CDs. He knows which one to grab, and he gingerly places it into the disc-man before turning around. On his way back, Vegard turns the lights off before falling back on bed next to his brother.

“Hi, I’m back.”

Both of his blue eyes flutter open, yet they are almost as dark as Vegard’s in the darkness of the room. “Hi. You turned off the lights.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Just because. Here,” Vegard says, offering him one of the earphones. “Put it on.”

Bård stares at him quizzically for a short moment, yet he complies. Vegard feels his chest warming up, and he mimics his brother’s actions, putting the remaining earphone on. He turns the discman on, and his index finger presses the ‘next’ button sixth times, stopping when they reach the track Vegard knows by heart. It’s probably the song he’s heard the most, Bård’s favourite. They listen to the first notes of the song and Vegard can see the silhouette of Bård’s face in the dim of the room. He isn’t smiling, and Vegard can guess his brother is probably wishing he could be in the concert. To make an attempt on getting his mind off the sadness, Vegard speaks.

“Close yours eyes,” he speaks over the voice of the singer.

Letting his head roll to his side, the brothers now eye-to-eye, Bård frowns. “Why do you want me to close my eyes?”

“Just— do as I say. Close your eyes.”

Vegard’s eyes are fixed on his face, and he gives him one of his big-brother looks that he knows Bård can’t say no to. His brother gives a small sigh before his eyelids flutter closed. He seems a bit more relaxed now, though the lines on his forehead are still a signal of woe.

“I know it’s not the same, but I want you to picture yourself in there,” Vegard says over the music. “Just imagine everything. People all around, and you’re close to the stage— you’re able to see everything, the guitar pick as the guitarist strums it over the strings, the loud bangs of drums, how good the singer is live…”

“He’s good, isn’t he?” Bård asks, and Vegard allows his eyes to close as soon as he notices his brother is smiling. “He sings just like in studio.”

“Yeah,” he concurs, fog dissipating from his mind as a clear image of the spectacle begins to appear in his head. Vegard feels everything too, he sees all the crazy girls wearing the band’s logo on white t-shirts, the energy coming from the people on stage. He might not be crazy about the band, but he does love live performances. And in his mind, he’s right there beside Bård. His little brother’s voice matching the singer’s vocal range— perhaps even a bit better. “And you’re between the mess of people that are older than you, but you’re as tall as some of them, so you get a perfect look at the stage. You can feel your heartbeat on your throat as the sound grows louder and the voices around you also seem to be at their top volume.”

“And I’m singing, right?”

Vegard laughs. “Of course you’re singing. You’re singing and instinctively playing the chords of the song in your mind. And you laugh when you notice people surrounding you are completely out of tune.”

“But I don’t care at all because I am too amused by their performance.”

“See? You’re already getting the grip of it,” Vegard says, and opens his eyes to check on his brother. His eyes are tightly closed and a smile is on his lips. Vegard wants to reach for him and put his arm around his shoulders, but he keeps himself still. “And, then they start with the solo…”

“That fucking solo, Vegard,” Bård says, and Vegard hears it too, both in his left ear and in his mind. “It’s amazing.”

“It is.” In his imagination, Vegard’s eyes are on Bård, who is staring at the stage with bright eyes, at the guitarist’s hands working fast on the stringers, and he just— “While they are playing this part, you feel two hands on your shoulders. At first you’re a bit alarmed, but you take a good look over your shoulder and I’m there. _I’m here_. Your gaze quickly sets on the stage again, and I am mumbling the song as you sing it at the top of your lungs.”

“When you say mumble you mean you are singing it, right?” Bård chuckles.

“Yeah, I do. I go all; _ooohh, ooohh, ooohh_.” He does his best to imitate the singer’s high voice, and does it perfectly. Vegard’s vocal range is just as good as Bård, if not broader, but he doesn’t want to spoil the moment with his comic imitation, so he keeps talking. “And in between the mess of people and the loud sounds, you grab my wrist and squeeze it to let me know you’re listening.”

Bård actually wraps his long fingers around his wrist as Vegard’s voice dies, and the contact makes him snap back to reality and open his eyes. He finds Bård staring back at him, a wide grin plastered on his face. The song is slowly ending in their ears, and Vegard maintains the visual contact with Bård as the notes play.

“And the song ends.”

“Just like that?”

“Yeah, just like that.”

“A concert in which they only play one song, and amazingly, it’s the one you like.”

“What are the odds, huh?” Vegard chuckles. “I am a lucky person,” he says, and as his eyes scan Bård’s face in the dark, he truly feels lucky.

“You are,” Bård agrees, pressing his lips into a thin smile. “You forgot to mention one thing, though.”

“Did I?”

“Yes. Just before the song is about to end, I turn around in your arms and pull you closer until we’re hugging. Perhaps it takes a couple of seconds for you to realise what’s happening, but I simply hug you and grin against the fabric of your t-shirt. I mumble ‘thank you,’ and you can’t hear it due the loud music, but you don’t actually need to listen to know what I’m saying.” Bård’s voice is soft but the words flow fast, and the grip he’s been keeping on Vegard’s wrist loosens. His hand then moves quickly until it meets Vegard’s. “Do you?” He asks, and their fingers twine together, fitting perfectly against each other.

Vegard’s head falls to his side, and he stares at Bård, but his brother’s eyes are shut, and head up to the ceiling. The words are still being processed in his mind, but Vegard can picture it. He imagines the hug, the wave of emotions washing over him as his arms hold Bård close when hundreds of people are surrounding them. He squeezes Bård’s hand in his own, enjoying the warm it brings him.

“Nah, I don’t,” he confirms and Bård’s grin grows larger. “You know I don’t.”

“Good.”

“Good,” he echoes after his brother.

With those words, Bård rolls to his side, and Vegard does the same, so they’re facing each other. He knows it’s not the same as being at the actual concert, but this is the closest he can do for him. And he squeezes his hand again before letting go.

“Thanks, Vegard.”

And Vegard doesn’t reply, because there’s nothing more he could possibly add to make the moment better. They lie side by side, face to face, and he isn’t surprised when Bård reaches to press play on the CD player and the music starts playing on their ears. In that moment they don’t really care for the rest of the world, it’s only the two of them lying on a bed and listening to music together, Vegard noticing how Bård lip-syncs some of the songs, and he joins him, the rest of the song ending in laughter and meaningless banters.

 

* * *

 

When it happens, Vegard is certain he is the happiest man on the planet. In less than a year from then he takes Bård to his first concert. He is eighteen and Bård fifth-teen, and he looks much older now, even than before, so they're both allowed in without any problem whatsoever. It isn't Bård's favourite music genre, but they both like the band and are excited about it weeks from the gig. They stand not much far away from the stage, and everything feels just like a dream, a vision come true.

Later, Vegard cannot seem able to recall what the stage looked like, he doesn't even remember what the singer was wearing or the brand of guitar the guitarist had. All the memories from that night are a series of frames of Bård's face, how his smile morphed throughout the night, the way his blonde hair shun beneath the different colourful lights coming from the stage.

Bård enjoyed the concert, his eyes glued to what happened above stage, but Vegard’s eyes were set on his little brother the whole time.


	2. .ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I give all my love to [Valen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/take_a_bow06/) for reading this and giving me her opinions before posting. And thanks to everyone who's read the first chapter and given kudos, it means a lot! :)
> 
> This chapter turned out to be a lot longer than I expected it to be, but here it is! Enjoy.

_1999_

 

“Hey, can you pass us the ball?” A boy that looks no older than fifteen shouts at Vegard as he notices a football ball stays now at his feet.

He’s at his old high school, waiting for Bård to finish his theatre practices. His back is pressed against the hard bark of an old tree, arms crossed over his chest as he idly stares at the leaves falling from the trees in the near distance. Without daring to kick the ball (his sportive skills are close to null), Vegard ducks and grabs the ball from the floor, throwing it at the boy’s lifted arms in the air, who grabs it without problem. At least Vegard has good aim.

“Thanks!”

“No problem,” Vegard says and gives him a thumb up.

Time has passed by way too quickly. It should feel weird to be at his old school when he’s already graduated, but it doesn’t. He’s been going quite often, especially to theatre rehearsals. He usually waits for Bård’s classes to be over in order to go with him to practices, which are three times per week and where he’s welcomed by whom was once his own acting teacher. That morning, he couldn’t accompany Bård because he’s been running some errands for his mother right when the practice started, but he’s back just in time to walk back with his brother. His eyes set on the theatre, a grin drawing on his face. They usually greet him with great hospitality and have him play the piano for singing practices, and Vegard does so with no hesitation, eyes always finding Bård’s tiny smile as he joins the group.

Being honest, Vegard loves theatre. His plans for the near future are quite uncertain; he’s been accepted into a University and other Universities have contacted him, but he hasn’t sent an answer yet. He knows what he likes, but the problem is that he likes many things. After constant teasing by Bård and his parents, he’s come to accept his obsession with planes, and would like to get a pilot license or perhaps even study aeronautical engineering, but he also likes history and geography, yet he doesn’t see himself being a teacher either. Being on stage, though, that’s different. Vegard loves every bit of it, loves acting before a crowd, singing words he’s rehearsed and seeing the smile on people’s faces as he gives his everything in each performance, playing the instruments that now feel like another limb, whether it is the piano, an acoustic guitar, or even something he doesn’t play as often as the accordion or even the violin. He smiles, Bård is better at the violin, anyway.

Still, finding out what he wants to do is hard. Last year Vegard did his mandatory military training. When he was picked for a year of military training, he knew it would be only a new experience in his life. He’s heard that it helped you gain more discipline, which he now can confirm. A part of him feared that it would take away his characteristic humour, but it hasn’t. Vegard kept his good humour and characteristic smile even when he was back. Bård kept his distance once he moved back into the house, limiting himself to say hi and not even greet Vegard with a hug, but once night had fallen, Bård came into his bedroom and demanded to know everything about Vegard’s year off. They talked and talked, joked, ate cookies their mother had prepared for Vegard until they were both full and tired. That night they fell asleep in Vegard’s bed, both still wearing their clothes and covered by a thin blanket Bård had brought from his own room.  

The bell rings loudly and Vegard takes a glance at the clock on his wrist. It’s twelve o’clock, which means Bård’s practice is over. Soon enough there are teenagers coming from the school’s main doors, carrying bags on their shoulders and holding books on their arms. Vegard balances himself on his own two feet, feeling the sudden chill breeze creeping into his bones. He stirs lazily and yawns, beginning to walk towards the theatre building. He spots three or four familiar faces as he makes his way there, so he waves and offers them a warm smile, which they reciprocate instantly. The theatre doors are opening just as Vegard stops next to the few flight of stairs that lead the way inside the place. Members of the arts group start to exit the place, and his old teacher stops by his side once he spots him, eyebrows up in surprise and clapping his hands over his chest.

“Hey!” He exclaims with enthusiasm. “We missed you today.”

“Hi, professor,” Vegard greets him gladly, and offers him a hand, which his former teacher accepts. “I hope you didn’t have much fun without me today.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but we did!” He barks a laugh that’s very characteristic of him, and he throws his red scarf over his shoulder as he speaks. “Especially your brother. He’s great.”

Vegard smiles fondly. “He is the _best_.”

“I’m glad you introduced him to theatre, because the young Ylvisåker has talent, just as his older brother.” The chubby man lets go of his hand and pats his shoulder instead. “I have to go now, Vegard, I hope you’re coming to our next rehearsal.”

“I’ll do my best to be here, sir.”

“Perfect, then,” he says and takes a look behind his back. “Bård is still inside, if he’s the one you’re looking for.”

He suspects his former teacher already knows Vegard has been waiting for Bård, but he doesn’t comment on it, he simply mumbles a shy _‘thank you’_ and wishes him the best for the rest of the day. Vegard looks around himself for a second, and confirms what he’s just told him. Bård is nowhere to be seen, so he lazily climbs up the few flight of steps until he’s able to look into the theatre. Every time he steps into the building he’s crowded with lovely memories of the first time he was on that very stage, how nervous he’d been before performing, how easily the words had flown once he’d stood in front of all the people, how calming it had been to see Bård’s face in the crowd. For almost a year Vegard thought that seeing his brother’s face light up as he performed was the best feeling in the word, but he was so wrong. Nothing compares to the feeling of being both on the stage, side by side. Somehow Vegard feels it’s right where he belongs.

Behind some seats Vegard easily spots his brother’s golden hair. What surprises him is to notice he’s not alone. Vegard sharpens his eyesight and sees a girl with long black hair standing in front of Bård, her hands being held by Bård’s. Weird. As Vegard catches a glimpse of her face, he recognises her right away— she’s part of the group, possibly one year Bård’s senior. Vegard remembers her because she once sang a duet with him, a small part of a play they performed in Vegard’s last year. _Elise_ , that’s her name. She is shorter than Vegard, with characteristic raven hair and fair skin. Her eyes are olive green, and he’s aware that most of the guys fall in love with her smile. Vegard never has, though. She’s beautiful, her face rather pleasant to see, but that’s all.

They look like they’re talking about something rather interesting, but all of the sudden she’s leaning in, almost as she’s about to kiss him, though she simply wraps her arms around his waist and presses their bodies together. Vegard doesn’t notice he’s been clenching his teeth until his jaw starts to hurt.

He turns on his heels and storms out of the theatre. What is he so distraught about? It shouldn't matter to him whether Bård wants to be with that girl or not. He is grown up now, anyway, it’s past time he has someone at his side. Only because Vegard doesn’t really want to spend his life with a girl at the moment it means that it has to be the same for Bård.

People have always questioned why hasn’t Vegard ever brought someone to present as his girlfriend, but truth is that he is doing just fine without one. He’s had sex with girls before, and it wasn’t as exciting as he thought it would be. Three different girls, and it never has meant a thing. There was a high level of alcohol in his system on all three of the times, anyway, so all he remembers is the way he’d felt during the whole thing rather than the girls’ faces. Although he knows it’s okay, it was a one time thing for them too.

Yet as Vegard’s mind rewinds to what he’s seen inside the theatre, to the closeness between Elise and Bård, he cannot help but feel the latent urges of rolling his eyes. Is there something wrong with him?

“Hey!”

Bård is suddenly popping by his side, calling out at him with a high pitched voice that matches the wide smile he carries on his face. Vegard steps a bit uncomfortably on the spot, hating himself for justifying his brother’s happiness with the scene he’s just witnessed moments ago. Nonetheless, Vegard knows he is right. Elise is the reason behind Bård’s smile.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Bård replies, climbing down a couple of stairs, and only waiting for Vegard once he is at the beginning of the path towards the exit.

Vegard soon follows, refusing to take a final look behind his back to check if Elise is still there. Have they kissed when Vegard turned away? Is that the honest reason the smile doesn’t erase from his brother’s face even when they’re walking home together? Again, Vegard finds himself reflecting on how selfish his thoughts are, yet he cannot bring himself to unwrap his head from the matter in question.

He tries to stare at the road before them rather than at Bård as they walk, gazing upon the horizon, and eyes idly following the faces of people he’ll probably never meet again, wondering if they’ve ever felt like he does now. Maybe he’s been overthinking, giving much thought into something that isn’t really worth it. But Vegard knows Bård better than anyone else, and his trusts his guts on this one.

“Bård?” He decides to speak up, getting his attention as they keep on walking.

“Huh?”

“You are awfully quiet today. Is everything okay?”

Bård’s eyes widen. “Yeah, all’s good.”

Choosing not to push it, Vegard simply nods at his words and moves closer to him, throwing his arm around Bård’s shoulders. Soon his dark eyes are met by Bård’s blues, who look bright in the daylight, and a different smile draws on his brother’s face. Many people might not recognise the changes in his smile, but Vegard does. He knows all of Bård’s different kind of smiles, a side effect of spending too many time together, and he knows the smiles as well as he knows the frowns, the grimaces, all of the different changes on Bård’s features. And the one he’s currently gazing at is one that Bård only keeps for him, an open smile that makes his features soften all at once, one that is just honest and pure and only for Vegard.

“In fact,” Bård voices, looking away, expression changing again at that very instant. “You know Elise?”

“Hmm, yeah. Elise from theatre?” He tries to sound a bit distracted, as if he doesn’t have an idea of what Bård is about to say.

“Yeah, that’s her,” he affirms. “She’s hot, isn’t she?”

Vegard has to bite his tongue not to burst out with something that might upset Bård. His good mood is something Vegard both treasures and that doesn’t want to ruin, not even over a thing that really bothers him.

“Yeah,” he says instead, squeezing Bård’s shoulder. “She is.”

They share a small look and the subject dies as quickly as it was brought up.

Vegard listens to Bård for the rest of the road, hears all about his nagging about the newest Chem teacher he’s got, and talk about how happy he is to get an important part in the upcoming play. Vegard listens to him with great reception, and a part of him truly forgets about the unsteadiness that’s still present on his chest, especially when Bård says he missed Vegard today. Little words can make Vegard’s day go from blue to incredibly good, Bård has that power on him.

They talk and joke all the way back, and Vegard’s arm doesn’t leave Bård’s shoulders until they get home.

 

* * *

 

Vegard doesn’t understand why he cares at all.

With the pass of the time he’s realised that people he’s met in the last years are temporary, no matter how important they seem to be or how cool he might find them, they always seem to slip through the cracks of their friendship and disappear. Vegard doesn’t care much about it, he’s also been the one to promise to call and write, but never finds it in him to do so. As a kid he never had many friends, not as Bård, anyway. In Africa he remembers a little kid around their age that used to spend Christmas together with their family, but he can hardly remember what he looked like, let alone his name. He still has contact with a couple of classmates, but it’s not like they hang out a lot. His brother has always been the one with the ease to connect with people, the one that owns a unique charm in his way to talk to strangers, whilst Vegard often connects with people who share similar interests.

Still, they are very alike in their own way. Bård might know many people, and everyone finds him amusing, but he isn’t the kind of kid that spends a long time around his friends all the time. He goes to reunions from time to time, but most of the time the brothers hang out together a lot, something that’s been part of their lives, especially since Africa. Somehow they never seem to get tired of each other, or at least that’s what Vegard thought until now.

It’s been four days since Vegard waited for Bård outside the theatre, and he believes it’s been four of the most lonely days he’s spent, except from the time he spent in the military. Bård has been, and Vegard feels the need to quote him, _‘busy’_ , which actually means he’s planned some time alone with Elise. And it should be okay, it should be something normal, but Vegard doesn’t feel it that way. Somehow it seems as he’s been withdrawn from Bård’s life. They haven’t had a proper conversation ever since, only shared a couple of words at dinner. In fact, Bård hasn’t looked for Vegard to play some music together, so he’s found himself practicing alone. He’s asked Bjarte if he wants to join in, and he’s only agreed in one occasion, but it wasn’t the same. Bjarte isn’t nearly as passionate as Bård or Vegard are, and that’s good, because he’s only a kid and he’s just beginning to find out what kind of things he likes. _He could be a great guitar player if he tried harder_ , Vegard reflects.

It’s been about two hours since he got into bed, and he can’t sleep. He blames it on his mind for overthinking whilst he should be ready for drifting to his dreamland. But his silly brain is busy making him gloomy. Is he being selfish by admitting he misses having Bård by his side? Yeah, probably, but it’s a feeling he cannot dispel. He’s spent his life having him at his side ever since the golden haired boy was born. Bård is a big, important part of his life, and he hates having the feeling Bård is slowly drifting away nagging at his gut.

Four days are to soon to judge, Vegard is aware of that, but how does he stop the feeling from growing deeper in his heart? If he could do it, he would, without hesitation. He wants to be happy for his brother, because he deserves someone by his side, someone that simply makes him happy, that keeps the smile always present on his face.

 _Someone who fills the space I’ve been filling for years now_ , Vegard thinks with bitterness, and a wave of guilt washes over his body at the next second.

Vegard rolls on his back, throwing a lazy arm over his face. He really wants to sleep, _needs_ to sleep, because maybe in his dreams he’ll find something nicer than reality, an escape from all of the thoughts that are crowding his head. But just as he shuts his eyelids close, he hears the door of his bedroom cracking open. At first he believes it might be his mother coming in to check on him after getting home from choir practice, but the loud sound of dragging feet tell otherwise. Bård.

He tries to shut his eyes tighter together, if it’s physically possible, but he feels them slightly shaking again his will. Next, the mattress of his bed sinks in as another body crawls on top of it.

“Vegard,” his brother’s voice is nothing but a murmur in the death of the night. “Are you awake?”

He wants to pretend he’s been awoken by Bård’s lack of furtiveness, mutter something witty at him that’d make him go back to his own room, but he isn’t able to. He is too upset with himself and he doesn’t want to take it out on Bård. Instead, he slowly retrieves the arm off his face and his eyelids flutter open, meeting Bård’s face. It’s dark and he’s got no idea what hour it might be, but Vegard is able to take a good look at his brother’s features; the dirty mass of hair all messed up in many directions, some small strands of hair falling on his forehead, his eyes dark, the bright irises hid by black pupils. Even now, when all Vegard can appreciate is his face in the death of the night, he realises how gorgeous Bård is, and it makes his insides pull into a knot of anxiety.

Fuck, is Vegard going to be sick anytime soon?

“Yes, couldn’t sleep.”

“Hello.”

“Hi, Bård.”

Bård sits cross-legged at the bottom of the bed, and Vegard assumes a similar posture with slow movements, giving Bård more space. The younger uses it to shift closer, their knees practically bumping together. Bård isn’t wearing his pyjamas, just some old jeans and a long sleeved shirt, which makes Vegard realise he must be getting home just now.

“I saw Elise today,” Bård says, brow up in excitement.

“Really?” Vegard simply murmurs, yet Bård doesn’t catch the sourness still present in his vice. “Had a good time?”

“The best,” he confesses with ease, because there shouldn’t be secrets between them. Vegard knows he trusts him, and he appreciates it, even if the truth hurts him. Bård’s hands search for Vegard’s, that are resting over his thighs. He looks down at their hands, and how their fingers fit perfectly as Bård laces them together, his warm palms meeting Bård’s cold ones. “She kissed me, Vegard.”

Suddenly, he gets a enormous wave of disgust rolling through him, the same one he cannot explain with proper words, very similar to the one he got that day outside the theatre. His first instinct is to search for marks on Bård’s neck, creepy as he might be, but Bård’s pale neck remains unmarked, no signs of teeth on the soft flesh. Then, his eyes moves up to glance at Bård’s lips. They don’t look swollen or bruises, so Vegard can tell it wasn’t a hungry kiss. He feels disgusted again, because he shouldn’t care, he shouldn’t pay attention or look for traces of some girl on his brother’s body, but he does.

Vegard is losing it.

“You truly like her, huh?” He says the first thing present in his mind, hoping the keeps the ache hid deep in his words.

“She’s hot,” is all Bård responds, not denying nor confirming anything. Vegard’s thumbs are constantly brushing the back of his hands with circular motions, just as he did when they were kids and Bård would have many stories to tell him. “Her lips tasted like strawberry.”

“You sound as if this was your first kiss,” Vegard jokes, finding council in humour. It’s one of the best ways to hide his emotions, he reckons.

“Nah, but who knows, maybe this kiss was special.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. She’s really hot, but that’s not all she is. Elise is talented, she sings and is learning how to play the piano because she wants to be a singer when she graduates,” he says, staring at the ceiling rather than Vegard’s face. “I think she likes me.”

The words feel like tiny needless digging into Vegard’s chest, and they only dig deeper when Bård’s head straightens and he’s able to see his brother’s soft grin. He should probably encourage Bård to get it on with her, tell him to go for it while he can, but Vegard doesn’t. His insides are twisting, because after four days this is what Bård searches him for, to talk about Elise. Can he say how much he’s missed Bård without sounding pathetic? Can he say he thinks Elise isn’t the perfect match for him even if he can’t give him a valid reason why?

“All girls like you.” Vegard tries to keep his inner thoughts to himself, playfully pulling Bård’s hands in and then out. The motion makes Bård giggle, and he continues doing so at least four or five times more. “They know how talented and good looking you are, which only makes you quite irresistible for them.”

“Yeah, sure, Vegard. I’ve got so many girls throwing themselves at me, and five girlfriends that you don’t know of,” Bård banters with an eyeroll. “Seriously, though… she kissed me.”

“Yes, I know that,” he mumbles with fake amusement.

“That has to mean something, right? She _has_ to like me.” His words are fast and full of expectation, but he keeps it low at the same time, considering there are people sleeping in the joined rooms. “What if she wants to be my girlfriend?”

Time freezes and Vegard’s body turns icy cold.

 _If she is to be your future girlfriend then my heart will break in two, because I don’t want to share you with her, I don’t want to lose you, I don’t want her to have you, I_ can’t _let her —_

 _Fuck_.

Vegard lets go of Bård’s cold hands. He cannot avoid the sadness growing inside of his as he considers the thought of Bård presenting her as his girlfriend. Why can’t Bård talk about something else, though? Hasn’t he missed Vegard at least one quarter of what Vegard has missed him? Is this the way things will be from now on, Bård sneaking in to tell him about the day and how wonderful Elise is?

Part of him wants to ask Bård if she makes him really happy, if in these four days he’s been better than when the two of them are alone, because if so, Vegard is willing to back off in order to let him enjoy his life, even if it means they need to take different paths.

“The real question is…do you want her to?” He inquires, and the ache in his voice is almost palpable.

“I don’t know.”

Bård keeps looking at him, and Vegard knows he is struggling not to reach for his hands again and lock their fingers together. To be honest, contact is the last thing Vegard needs at the moment, no matter how much he longs for it.

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” Bård speaks up again, and Vegard knows his little brother is asking him for his opinion because he because he values whatever Vegard has to say on the issue, yet he can’t speak his mind without feeling more guilty than he already does.

“That’s up to you, Bård, I can’t make that decision for you.”

“I know that, but…” After a sigh, his voice trails off, and all they do for a moment is stare into each other’s eyes. It’s true, though, what Vegard said. Regardless of the situation, he can’t take matters into his own hands, whatever the outcome might be good or bad. It’s the faint gleam in Bård’s eyes what makes Vegard think _‘fuck it’_ and reach for his hands again, even if his heart aches at the contact. His hands aren’t as cold as before, and he grins at the thought. “Vegard?”

“Bård?”

“You are not mad, are you?”

He gives a fake chuckle, furrowing his brow. “And why would I be?” Vegard lies. He can list many reasons, in truth, but he is only angry at himself, not at Bård.

“Okay.” Bård pulls at his hands, making him stretch his arms. “If you’re okay with this then I’m okay.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles, smiling, but Vegard heard what he said perfectly, and knows what Bård means. It’s the same for him, really, Bård’s opinion on his the decisions he takes in life must be the most important, the one he values the most, and he knows Bård feels the same way. His cheeks are starting to heat up in embarrassment for feeling a warm flame on his chest for having such corny thoughts, and he feels incredibly thankful for the darkness surrounding them. “It’s late.”

“Yeah.”

“We should probably try to get some sleep.”

And it’s by the way Bård says _we_ instead of _I_ that Vegard instantly knows what his brother is mutely inquiring. And how can he say no?

“You aren’t wearing your pyjamas,” Vegard points out.

His brother then gives his hands a light squeeze before freeing them. Vegard keeps looking at him in the dimness of the room, eyes tracing the outline of his silhouette as he stands from the bed. Bård has his back turned on him, and without saying a word, he starts to strip off his clothes, getting rid of his shirt first. Vegard is unexpectedly captivated by his pale back, from his shoulders to his back dimples, and especially one and each of the freckles that are barely visible from distance, yet if someone were asking him to point them out, Vegard could easily do so with ease. His jeans fall down right after, and it’s only then when Bård turns around to look at Vegard with an innocent smile plastered on his face. How can he have the body of a seventeen years old boy and keep one of the most authentic smiles, one that’s proper of a kid? Vegard’s heart starts beating faster, and he doesn’t know why.

Pushing the duvet to the bottom of the bed, Vegard takes one of the two pillows from behind his back and changes their position, one next to the other rather them the two piled up together. His gaze searches for Bård again, and soon finds him rummaging through one of the drawers of his dresser, pulling a white shirt from it after a moment. Vegard doesn’t mind it at all, he knows Bård will give it back to him eventually, and it’d be fine if he doesn’t, anyway. Vegard moves closer to the edge of the bed, and doesn’t have to tap on the mattress to invite him in, his brother simply crawl on top of the mattress without hesitating and settles between Vegard and the wall.

Ever since they were little, they’ve shared a bed at night on several occasions, and Bård always prefers when Vegard sleeps closer to the edge, given that he’s most likely to wake up earlier than Bård, who wakes up cranky most of the times. However, Vegard knows his brother wakes up when he takes his arms off him, he’s able to tell by the way Bård’s breathing changes right immediately.

Once they are both lying on the bed, Vegard throws the duvet on top of them. They are probably too old to keep doing this, but who is Vegard to say no? It’s not something that happens every single day, anyway, and when it does happen, Vegard can tell Bård is as happy as him. They’ve never talked about it, mostly because there’s nothing to discuss. It’s not something all brothers do —they’ve never done it with Bjarte—, they’re both aware of that, but it’s part of the bond they share, a little something they’ve refused to left behind as they grew up.

Vegard rolls on his side so he’s facing Bård, and he can’t help himself but to lift his hand and push a strand of hair off his forehead. He inspects his features for a brief moment, and allows all of the anger he’s kept in his chest to dissipate, even if for one night. There is no reason why he shouldn’t put his arms around Bård, so he does, allowing him to snuggle against him, and Vegard giggles as his golden hair tickles the inside of his neck.

“Goodnight, Bård.”

“Night,” he mumbles back, hot breath crashing against his neck. Vegard’s hand finds the back of Bård’s neck to run his fingers lightly through the mass of hair for a brief moment before letting it go downwards until it’s resting in the middle of his broad shoulders. “And Vegard?”

“Hmm?”

“I hope it’s okay.”

His voice is but a murmur, but it’s enough for Vegard.

There is nothing he can say as a reply, so he decides to inhale all of Bård’s scent in, letting it fill his nostrils. Vegard holds him for a long time, and it doesn’t take long until he feels Bård has fallen asleep in his arms.

All of his thoughts are occupied by Bård, by his golden hair and his bright blue eyes, and the feeling of his arms around Vegard’s waist, the weight of his leg tangled between Vegard’s as they move even closer. Perhaps another time those things would be all that’ll take Vegard to feel happy, yet even though he really wants to feel one hundred percent happy, a thought keeps nagging at the back of his mind. There is nothing as painful as knowing you’ll have to let go of something you are so tightly attached to. Something that is invaluable. Vegard stares melancholy at Bård, who looks so peaceful in his arms. He’s even afraid to move and wake him.

 _Stop overthinking_ , he tells himself, closing his eyes and holding onto Bård as Bård holds onto him.

Letting go of Bård will be the hardest thing he’s been forced to do.

 

* * *

 

“We are out of apple juice,” Bjarte whines as he closes the fridge’s door with  small thud and turns around to sit across from Vegard, who grabs Bjarte’s empty glass from the table to pour orange juice instead.

“Here, drink this,” he says, pushing it closer to his little brother. “It’ll do you good.”

Instead of protesting, Bjarte stares at the drink in disgust for mere seconds before giving in and taking a gulp from it. They are both eating scrambled eggs and toasts with strawberry jam, yet Bjarte had stopped devouring his meal to bitch about the apple juice. Feeling quite victorious, Vegard glances over at his mother, and the two share a knowing look. Bjarte is not fond of many things, including fruits, and whenever he’s able to convince him to eat or drink something he normally wouldn’t, he ends up getting proud of his big brother skills.

A week has passed by in the blink of an eye, and it is one of the weirdest weeks in Vegard’s life. Perhaps he could say he prepared himself for Bård’s absence the night they fell asleep in Vegard’s bedroom, but that would be a blatant lie. Nothing could’ve mentally prepared him for it. During the past days, he’s barely seen him at all, muttering _‘morning’_ as they cross each other on the hallways, and mostly at meal times. Even then Bård seems to be distracted, not really paying attention to the conversation at the table, whilst Vegard does what he can to keep a fake smile on his face as he makes some inputs to the subject in matter whenever the family sits at the table to eat dinner, but Vegard’s eyes are always drawn back to Bård, and he’s left with an ache in his heart when he finds Bård is not staring back.

Vegard runs a hand through his short hair in frustration. He feels tired, he’s barely gotten any sleep in the last day, but the weariness is not merely physical. The closest he’s been to having a proper conversation with Bård that week was when the younger came into his room after he was back from school to tell him people missed him at theatre rehearsals, but Vegard mumbled a couple of words as reply and Bård was out of his eyesight before Vegard could think of asking him to stay for a little longer. But, after all, Bård’s words were plain, people at the theatre missed him, but Bård possibly didn’t— _doesn’t_. It’s okay, though, because it only means he has other things to do. Nevertheless, for Vegard, going to theatre rehearsals for the upcoming play only means he’d get to see Elise too, and that’s something he isn’t really looking forward to.

Soon, Vegard’s eyes are drawn to the reason behind his thoughts, who appears right through the arc of the kitchen, wearing a pair of black boxers and a sweater that’s visibly too big for him. Vegard’s eyes scan him for a moment, sharpening his eyesight to notice the little details the striped sweater provides him; the way the sleeves cover half of Bård’s hands, how there’s a small hole in the collar, he quickly draws the conclusion that the sweater belongs to him.

“Morning,” he says the instant their eyes meet, and Bård waves at him as he takes some steps closer.

“Hi,” he mumbles, sleep dripping from his voice as he rubs one of his eyes. “Bjarte’s in my seat.”

“You woke up too late, it’s your own fault,” the youngest of the three brothers replies wittily. “There are other seats left.”

With a loud sigh, Bård drags his feet as he walks. It’s an habit they’ve developed at home, he thinks, to sit across from each other. Maybe it is because then it’s easier for them to share playful looks when the rest are too focused on the conversation at the table to notice them, or just because Bård enjoys kicking Vegard underneath the table, but facing each other during family meals is something that hasn’t changed over the years. Still rubbing his eyes, Bård drops on the empty chair beside Vegard with a loud groan, burying his face on his palms, heels of his hands digging hard on his eyes.

“Woke up too late? Right the opposite, it’s too early,” he whines. “Classes start three hours from now.”

“Why are you awake, then?”

“Because I couldn’t keep sleeping.”

“Boo, you suck!” Bjarte says, sticking his tongue out.

“Oh, fuck off,” Bård hisses in annoyment, voice muffled by his palms.

“Bård!” their mother scolds from behind their backs. “Apologise to your brother.”

“Yes, apologise to me,” the ten years old snaps proudly with strawberry jam bordering his mouth like some kind of clown make-up.

“Hmm…” Bård’s voice is heavy with sleep, and his bothered noises are a remark of his noticeable grumpiness. Without any kind of warning, Bård’s head falls on top of Vegard’s shoulder, and instead of keep on eating his breakfast, he tenses for a moment. These little and mindless acts of brotherly affection have been what Vegard has missed the most, things that come always so naturally from both Bård and himself that are impossible not to long for when their absence is persistent. Bård’s hair softly brushes the inside of his neck, and the warm puffs of air coming from his partially open mouth make Vegard’s insides feel fuzzy. “Sorry, Bjarte, I am an asshole.”

Vegard cannot keep a giggle from escaping his mouth as their mother sighs deeply in disapproval. It’s so typical of Bård to do as he is told but in a reluctant way, and of their mother to give up on keeping Bård from swearing, especially now that he’s nearly a man. Vegard gingerly drops the fork on his plate of food right above the scrambled eggs, and his hand finds Bård’s head, fingers softly scratching his scalp, almost aching to touch him. “I don’t know how our parents put up with you,” Vegard says in a low voice that is only for Bård to hear.

“The same way you do,” Bård says in a whisper that makes him feel dizzy again, especially as he snuggles closer to him. Vegard’s eyes look down at him out of the corner of his eye, and part of him is taken aback by such beauty; the tiny, adorable freckles covering his nose and cheeks, the intense blue of his irises, the way his pink lips curve into a small smile as their eyes lock. “Hi, Vegard.”

“Hi, Bård.”

“Mmh… Where have you been lately? I’ve missed you.”

This isn’t a kind chat they should be having at the table, or at least not when there are other people in the room. The reason as of why is quite simple; Vegard is too emotionally invested in having Bård by his side out of lately, it makes him feel guilty for being and exposed, and if it’s already hard for him to talk about feelings, the task becomes almost impossible with Bjarte and their mother in the room. It also gets to him that this is the way Bård chooses to approach him after days of loneliness. _It’s still better than being pushed away_ , Vegard figures.

“I’ve been right here,” he replies, grateful to keep their conversation to murmurs. His hand lets go of Bård’s hair and he grabs the fork again, allowing himself to enjoy Bård’s closeness while it lasts. “I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“Have I?” Bård asks, and there is a slight underline of panic hid in his voice.

“Ask yourself that question,” Vegard replies bluntly. The words come out sharper and meaner than intended, regretting his attitude at the very next second, and in an attempt to apology without words, he leads his hand back to Bård’s hair, head still resting on top his shoulder. He runs his fingers idly through the soft hair, earning low purrs from his brother. “Sorry, it’s not a happy morning for me…” he mumbles, and gets a comprehensive hum as response. “But I believe only you can answer that question, Bård.”

And that’s true. Perhaps Vegard could actually answer truthfully, tell him _no, Bård, you haven’t been here, I’ve been waiting for you and you have not been here_. Though that would be incredibly selfish. After spending a good amount of time thinking about it the past days, it’s clear as water that he must be one of the most selfish persons in the world, but he isn’t about to admit it out loud. It’s a conflict of emotions on his insides. Vegard retrieves his hand from his brother’s hair and grabs the fork again, his mind getting crowded by thoughts again. It’s absurdly ironical how there’s nothing he wants more than Bård to be happy, but he doesn’t feel good if Bård is happy with Elise. Perhaps there’s something more into that, perhaps he wants Bård to be happy with _him_. Wasn’t he before? Isn’t he now?

“Your hair smells nice,” Bård comments a bit louder instead of continuing their vague yet meaningful conversation, Vegard promptly becoming aware of the tip of his nose press against the side of his neck, right where his hairline begins.

“That’s because I showered before coming downstairs.”

“Mmh,” he mumbles as he steals a toast from Vegard’s plate. “A skill I will never learn.”

“That’s why you always smell funny in the mornings,” Bjarte joins the conversation with a wide grin.

“Hey! I do not smell funny!” Bård exclaims, sounding offended. The loud crack of the toast breaking in half is loud in Vegard’s ear. He guesses Bård is probably getting crumbles all over his shirt, but he doesn’t really mind it, he’ll brush them off later. “Ask Vegard.”

As if to have proof, Vegard turns to bury his nose on the blond hair. The scent of yesterday’s cologne is still recognisable on him, yet he can also distinguish the sweet scent of his shampoo mixed with the faint scent of his cologne, and thing else, something that is proper of Bård. As Vegard takes in another inhale, he perceives it again, that sweet and unmistakable scent that Vegard would be able to recognise anywhere at any time; Bård’s scent.

“He doesn’t,” Vegard forces himself to speak, still hypnotised by his brother’s scent. “He smells quite good, actually. ”

Bjarte pulls his tongue out again. “You are a liar.”

 _I wish I was lying_.

In spite of the guilt nagging at his gut, Vegard laughs at his little brother’s disappointed expression, Bård’s laughter matching his own almost immediately. Fuck, he’s missed that sound terribly. And he has to get used to the feeling of missing so deeply, because Bård is most likely to take another path once he graduates, a path that is most likely to drive him further away from Vegard, and he’s got no idea what his life will be like without Bård in it. Sad and lonely, possibly.

“Vegard?” His soft voice makes Vegard take in a deep breath.

“Hmm?”

“What do you think about watching a movie later today?”

Vegard’s heart skips a beat. “The two of us?”

“Bård, stop using your brother as a pillow,” before Bård has the chance to reply, their mother speaks, and then three steamy mugs with are placed in front of them.

“It’s okay,” Vegard tells her, hand back to stroking his brother’s soft and fluffy hair. “I don’t mind.”

“He doesn’t mind,” Bård’s voice echoes his own, and if to make emphasis on his words, Bård nuzzles against his neck.

“And I don’t mind either, but I don’t want you to spill hot coffee over your brother.”

“That’s a good point,” Bård concurs and then lifts his head from Vegard’s shoulder, leaving the oldest of the three brothers missing the warmth on the crook of his neck.

Bjarte is the first one to drag the mug closer to himself, and Vegard follows right after. He leaves the one without cinnamon on top for Bård, who drags it with fingers covered by the sleeves of his sweater. Vegard suspects it’s too hot for drink at the moment, regardless of having Bjarte practically shoving the hot drink down his throat. Vegard goes back to silently eating his breakfast, finishing the scrambled eggs rather quickly and offering Bård the remaining toast on his plate. He is aware of Bård’s thoughts on breakfast, and he’s sure that if he doesn’t give Bård some food, he’ll be too lazy to make some for himself.

“Bård?” He speaks, and his brother immediately turns to look at him, half the toast in his mouth. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“Oh, yeah…”

“And?”

Bård tears his gaze off Vegard. He finishes the toast in two more bites, and then he reaches for Vegard’s orange juice to push it all down. Before speaking, Bård clears his throat, and his eyes still refuse to meet Vegard’s. “Knowing Bjarte is going with mom and dad to choir practice, I asked mom yesterday if Elise could come, and she said it was okay, so I told Elise she could swing by around six o’clock.”

 _Oh, of course_. He should’ve figured out Elise is included on his plans by Bård’s eagerness. It’s truly a surprise that their mother agreed on letting Bård bring a girl home when she is away, but then again, Bård is seventeen years old now, he is not a kid anymore. He doesn’t need his older brother around. Why is it so hard for Vegard to understand something as plain as that?

“Anyway, I figured the three of us could watch a movie while they’re gone,” Bård adds, a finger idly tracing the line of the mug’s border. “Something funny or an action movie, you could help me pick it.”

“Yeah, I don’t really feel like watching a movie today…” Vegard mumbles rapidly. He truly doesn’t want to be in the middle of them, doesn’t want to witness any kind of romantic interaction between the two. “Maybe another time.”

“Oh, okay.”

By Bård’s words, Vegard can tell he is somehow disappointed, but he shouldn’t have had high expectations from the older brother. He’s never done much as imply he _likes_ Elise, and Bård should know that.

“Is Elise your girlfriend?” Bjarte asks, unaware of the somewhat tense atmosphere there is now in the room, and Vegard curiously turns to his right to face Bård. Does he really want to know the answer to that question?

In turn, Bård chuckles. “Why are you asking that?”

“Because you keep spending too much time with that Elise girl and Vegard has been alone in his room while you’re away.”

If it weren’t because their mother is present, Vegard would’ve reached to punch Bjarte.

“She is not my girlfriend, ” Bård replies with a forced laughter

“ _Yet_ ,” Vegard remarks with audacity as he stands up from the chair. He grabs both his mug and his empty plate, and strides towards the sink, without daring to give Bård’s face a last glance.

His actions become a little too brusque. The water is icy cold under his fingertips as Vegard does his dish, and he tries to focus in the sound of water running down the pipes than in the voice of Bård answering some other questions their younger brother has.

Once he’s ready, Vegard takes the mug in hand and walks over to his mother, placing a small thank you peck on her left cheekbone. She smiles at him, but he can’t bring himself to smile back. Vegard hears Bård mentioning his name, but he has no idea what his two younger brothers might be chatting about, so he lets it pass. Instead, he lurches towards the fridge, where he easily removes the chocolate syrup from the shelf door and turns on his heels, approaching Bård until they’re side by side.

“Here,” he says, placing the syrup next to Bård on the table instead of swirling threads of chocolate into his hot drink.

He doesn’t miss the quizzical look Bård gives him before disappearing through the arc of the kitchen and going straight to his room.

 

* * *

 

“Is that Phil Collins?”

Bård’s voice makes him stop, fingers leaving the keys as if they burned. The younger brother appears into the living room unannounced, getting on his nerves.

“Yes.”

Vegard is sitting by the piano, wearing the same clothes he had in the morning and taking the liberty to play some music now that their parents and Bjarte are finally gone. It’s half past five already, Bård arrived home just a couple of hours ago but it’s the first time they speak since the morning. Vegard has spent most of the day locked up in his room trying to get some sleep but failing miserably, only drifting off for twenty minutes tops after Bård was back from school. He’s spent the day watching bad television shows and trying to get his mind to think of happy things rather than letting his inner bitterness affect his thoughts even more.

After Vegard woke up from his flash nap, he went downstairs just in time to pay his parents and Bjarte his goodbyes, being still so tired he missed the opportunity to mock Bjarte’s outfit. They weren’t even out the door when Vegard was already sitting by the piano. Now that hours have passed by, he starts to feel more and more hungry, taking in consideration that he didn’t leave his room to eat lunch in the afternoon. That doesn’t mean he’s going to stand from the piano and look for something in the kitchen: he’s quite focused on what he’s doing. There’s always been something liberating about playing music whenever he is distressed, it might not magically fix all of his problems, yet it sure does help him drain all of his emotions and put them into the music.

“Don’t stop,” Bård speaks again, and Vegard turns to notice his brother has dropped on the couch and is looking at him with a faint smirk. Bård’s hair is wet and he changed his clothes, now wearing a Green Lantern shirt and dark jeans. “Keep playing,” he encourages, and Vegard lets the music reply for itself.

His hands go back on the white and black keys, long and slender fingers playing the right chords and resuming the song right where he’s left off. Vegard doesn’t know why he decided to play that tune in particular, but then again, he and Bård are used to playing whatever comes to their minds first, be it a song from the 60s or something that’s currently playing on the radio. He loves that about them, the versatility they have to adapt to any kind of music rather than sticking to one genre.

“ _Da, da, da, da, da, now…_ ” Bård sings the melody as Vegard’s fingers work on the keys, and the fact that he doesn’t know the lyrics is amusing to Vegard. It’s the first time since the morning he’s able to crack a smile. “ _There’s just da, da, daaa._ ”

“ _And there’s nothing left here to remind me, just a memory of your face…_ ” Vegard continues, voice raspy and powerful at the same time. As the chorus goes, he starts to play the chords with more intensity to match his voice. “ _…so take a look at me now…_ ”

Bård’s sweet voice then gets shadowed by Vegard’s potent vocal chords as he really gets into the song. It’s a good way of finishing it up, practically singing at the top of his lungs to then keep his voice as soft as a whisper to sing the last verse, the piano also softening to his match voice. What is interesting, though, is that Bård also sings the end with him, remembering the lyrics quite well.

“I didn’t know you knew how to play that one,” he comments after Vegard is done playing.

Vegard throws one of his legs over the other side of the bench and turns around to face Bård, hands now resting on the surface of the wooden seat. “And neither did I, it just happened,” he says, tapping his fingers calmly.

“Uhm…” He stares directly at him with curious eyes, rubbing a hand over his stomach as seconds pass by. “I peeked into your room earlier today, wanted to play a videogame with you, but you were asleep.”

“Oh, I was taking a nap. I didn’t get much sleep last night, to be honest. I feel like a zombie right now.”

“Is that why you’ve been acting odd lately?”

Vegard frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, Vegard, you know…” Bård sits up on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. “This morning you didn’t even wait for me to finish my breakfast.”

“Well, technically you didn’t have breakfast this morning.”

“Vegard…”

“Yeah, Bård, I know what you mean,” he mumbles. Bård _knows_ it’s hard for him to talk about the way he feels, be it emotionally or physically, yet it’s quite easy for him to comprehend the worry in his brother’s voice. “I’m okay, it’s just that I’ve been a bit tired lately and I’m not as animated as usual.” He runs a hand over his face and lets it follow up to his hair. “I’ve had a bad time trying to sleep.”

“Fuck, Vegard, why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because I guess we haven’t spoken much in days, or have we?” Vegard snaps, instantly gritting his teeth. Saying those words out loud lifts a heavy weight from his shoulders, words he’d been thinking over and over again for the length of the day, but the burden that comes to replace it when he meets Bård’s blue eyes again is much greater. He instantly sees the recognition in his blue eyes, the small spark Vegard catches before Bård looks away meaning he finally becomes aware of the distance that’s between them now. _Oh, I fucked up_. He wishes he could unsay those words only to spare Bård the visible ache that comes with such realisation.

“You’re right, I’m sorry…” Bård mutters, rubbing the palms of his hands over his dark jeans. “I should’ve noticed before.”

“No, it’s okay, I—… it’s me.” Vegard doesn’t know what else he can say, so he uses the silence in his favour to look for an alibi to excuse himself. “Uh, I should probably go upstairs now that Elise is coming.”

Which is actually true. Being present is something he wants avoid at all cost. Vegard makes an attempt of standing up from the chair, but all of the sudden Bård is standing before him with his hands firmly grabbing Vegard’s shoulders to keep him from leaving.

“Hold on a minute,” he orders pushing Vegard down to the bench. “Can you at least stay here until she arrives?”

And Vegard knows he can’t say no, not when Bård hands are keeping him in place with such a tender touch, staring down at him with bright blue eyes that say _‘please’_ without the need of words. If he had the skill of looking so adorable in order to get what he wants, perhaps Vegard’s childhood would have been more filled with sweets and toys. But that’s Bård’s charm, something that comes natural to him. He lifts his hand up to place it over one of Bård’s, giving a reassuring squeeze.

“Sure,” Vegard says, and Bård smiles.

Part of him wants to flee upstairs in order to _actually_ get some sleep, yet Bård is standing within his reach, and he genuinely wants Vegard there— he definitely can’t say no to that. Once he’s certain he is going to stay, Bård lets go of his shoulders with a lopsided smile on his face, but instead of going back to the couch he sits at the border of the bench right in front of Vegard.

“Scoot over,” Bård demands, tilting his head to a side. Vegard quickly does as told, throwing both of his legs between the piano and the bench. He feels Bård’s thigh pressed against his own as he gets closer, both now too large to fit on the bench, yet not really minding the closeness. “Play me a song?”

“What do you want to listen?”

“Something,” he mumbles, leaning against Vegard’s shoulder. “Anything.”

Thinking fast, Vegard smiles to himself and cracks his knuckles before getting his hands back on the piano. Quickly rechecking the tune in his mind, he mumbles a small ‘okay’ mostly for himself than for Bård whilst he starts playing the intro of the song. It takes Bård mere seconds to laugh as he recognises the melody. Vegard continues playing the full intro before stopping, his brother immediately digging a finger into his ribs and causing him to giggle.

“ _ABBA_? Seriously?”

Vegard chuckles too. “ _Mamma Mia_ is a classic.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Okay, let’s be serious this time.”

And he means it.

Whilst he focuses back on the black and white keys before him, he clears his throat, and decides to go classic as he starts playing the first of Chopin’s nocturnes. It’s one of the musical pieces he learnt when he was still a kid, but he still loves it the same. It brings back memories of Bård trying to play it with him, but failing and quitting after his third try. Neither of them are quitters, but this was one of the rare occasions Bård actually preferred to listen Vegard playing it than learn how to do it himself —Vegard has always been better at the piano, anyway—. And he is fond of playing this nocturne in particular, loves the beauty and melancholy of the melody, but he what loves the most is knowing Bård enjoys it the same.

Vegard keeps on playing for a while, complementing the first nocturne with the second just seconds after the first is over, the soft purrs escaping Bård’s mouth create a delicate harmony parallel to the melody Vegard is playing, and he believes his brother’s voice might be even more pleasant than the sound coming from the piano itself. The minutes pass by with the sound of the piano solo, and before Vegard can conclude the doorbell rings.

He wants to keep playing, yet he sees no point in doing so when Bård’s head lifts from his shoulder and the younger of the two stands from the bench. It’s as if he’s woken up from a dream, brought back to his own reality with the loud ring of a bell. Vegard soon stands from the bench too, taking a look at himself. He wears the grey set of pyjamas, an old grey shirt and striped sweatpants. _Fuck_ , he should’ve gone to his bedroom before Elise arrived, now she is going to see him like that. _Doesn’t matter, though_ , he reckons, _she is here for Bård_.

“Elise’s here,” Bård informs in a low voice, running a hand through his hair. “Do I look good?”

Those words are all it takes to put his eyes on Bård again. The once wet hair is almost dry, regaining its usual golden colour with bright highlights. Vegard eyes continue travelling down his body, from his face to the length of his neck —has Bård’s adam’s apple always been this sharp?—, and onto his torso. The green shirt looks good on him, and the dark jeans he wears are a perfect match. Vegard’s gaze goes up again, eyes locking with his brother’s. He’s got that worried look on his face that makes him look much younger than he is, yet soon Bård offers him a small grin and the rest of his features soften into a more relaxed expression.

Hell, Bård looks stunning, and Vegard bites his tongue.

“Yeah, you’re okay.”

His brother nods before turning on his heels and heading for the door. Vegard wants to move, disappear before Bård invites the girl in and he has the chance to catch a glimpse of her face, but Bård is quicker. He opens the door and welcomes her with a peck on her cheek, moving in order to allow her to come in. Vegard eyes her; long hair falling at her back, a dark grey shirt that makes her skin look even paler and a short denim skirt that makes her legs look longer than they really are. She looks pretty, actually, and it makes Vegard’s hands curl into fists at his sides.

“Oh, Vegard, you’re here too!” Elise exclaims happily as she walks into the house, showing off her white teeth in a wide grin. “Bård didn’t say you’d spent the night here with us.”

“That’s because I technically won’t,” he retorts without smiling back. His eyes shift from her face to Bård’s for a brief moment, unsure of what to expect as he stares into his eyes. “I’ll go upstairs now.”

Without having anything left to add, Vegard turns on his heels and heads for the staircase. They’ll be fine by themselves, he bets, he saw snacks left on the kitchen table when he came down from his room and he trust Bård to be a good host, so everything will be just fine without him there. Vegard is halfway up the flight of stairs when Bård calls out his name, making his feet to freeze on spot and he turns around immediately. It isn’t a life or death situation, nor is there any alarm in Bård’s voice, but Vegard searches for his face with determination.

“What’s wrong, Bård?”

“Come on, stay with us for a while, it’ll be fun,” Bård pleads with big puppy eyes and looking up at him as Elise sits by the couch. Vegard merely sighs, he’s made his decision already, and now that she’s here, he can feel his blood heating up in anger towards her and towards himself. _Not towards Bård,_ never _torwards Bård_. “Please stay?”

The please only makes things harder for Vegard. He’s both physically and mentally exhausted to come up with a lame excuse to say, so Vegard only sighs and speaks up with honesty.

“I’m sorry, Bård, I just— I can’t.”

Vegard feels a knot forming on his throat, the words leaving his mouth heedlessly, not really minding whether it makes sense for Bård or not. If he can barely understand what he’s feeling himself, he doubts he can explain it to Bård. Grabbing the railing of the stairs Vegard holds his gaze for another solid five seconds, and as he doesn’t want to keep his brother from having a good time, Vegard climbs the rest of the staircase and heads directly into his room. The image of Bård looking up at him with pleading eyes is inked to the back of his eyelids as his eyes shut close and his back presses against wooden door. Only Bård is able to do that to him, to tell him a thousand of things without the need of actual words.

He doesn’t bother turning on the lights of his bedroom, the yellowish streetlight is flagrantly creeping into his room through the window and illuminating the small path he needs to cross to reach the bed. Vegard drags his feet as he walks the small distance, a hand massaging his temples. He’s stupid, isn’t he? To keep bothering over something he can’t control? Vegard drops on the still unmade bed —quite atypical of him—, pushing the thick duvet to the bottom of the bed with his feet, feeling heated up by both the irritation and embarrassment building up on his insides.

The sound coming from the TV downstairs is loud enough to be heard on the inside of the bedroom, and Vegard only sighs deeply as he rolls to his side, a hand under the pillow and gaze fixed on the concrete wall before him. He closes his eyes once more, trying to ignore the sound coming from the living room. He feels bad, guilty for wanting her to be gone, to rewind and sit with Bård by the piano to sing songs, feel him close again. He shouldn’t feel like this, he should accept things, he should—

“Not should, I _need_ to sleep.”

Vegard closes his eyes, really looking forward to sleep. His body feels heated up, and a part of him wants to throw up for having so many feelings gathered on his insides, but he can’t physically stand up from the bed again. Time passes by and Vegard is listening to the unrecognisable sounds from the TV. He doesn’t know what they’re watching but all he can picture is how her hand lays idly on Bård’s thigh, or Bård’s arm circling her shoulders. Will they make out as the movie advances? _He’s a clever kid, of course they will_. Vegard feels that irrational disgust building up on his insides again. The thought of her arms on Bård repulses him to no end.

The TV goes mute before Vegard’s imagination keeps on ruining his sleeping pattern. His eyes snap open as he distinguishes his brother’s voice echoing through the partially empty house. Has something happened? Will they be going to Bård’s bedroom to— _Oh God_. Vegard prompts himself by his elbows and coughs for a moment to the image now in his mind. Vegard runs a hand over his face. What if he hears them? What if he—

He suddenly jolts at the sound of the front door slamming closed.

“The fuck was that?” He mumbles to himself, letting himself fall back onto the mattress.

Curiosity dwells on him, yet he knows better than to stand up to see what has happened. It’s probably nothing important, or Bård would’ve called out his name. Vegard tries to keep his concern at its lowest, hands massaging his own tense neck muscles. The line of paranoid thoughts stop all of the sudden since no sound can be heard in his room, not even their voices or any distinguishable sound coming from the television. _Has Elise left?_

Just as Vegard’s mind starts to come up with new possibilities, the door of his bedroom cracks open and a mass of golden hair peeks in.

“Are you still awake?” Bård’s voice asks, soft and paused as if he worries not to wake him. Vegard simply hums in confirmation, lifting his head from the pillows. “Good,” he says then, pushing the door open and entering the room. He’s carrying a small tray with two glasses, a banana and a big plate in the middle. “Give me a hand?”

As if given a command, he jumps to his feet to help Bård with the tray, feeling a faint pain on his leg muscles as his left foot touches the ground. He grabs both glasses —which he now can confirm is soda— and places them gingerly over his nightstand, careful not to spill anything on his plane magazines. He turns around to find his brother already sitting on the bed, right on top of the wrinkled duvet, the tray resting on the middle of the mattress. Vegard takes the cue to sit across from him, crossing his legs and idly rubbing his left calf.

“I figured you’d be hungry,” Bård says rather cheerful, motioning to the tray. “Made us some sandwiches, tomato and cheese grilled sandwiches.”

Vegard nods in acknowledgement. “Awesome. Thanks.”

There are at least three sandwiches on the plate, all cut by their halves and stacked one on top of the other like a clumsy tower that might fall at any given time. It’s a wonder how Bård managed to come upstairs without letting something fall in the way. As his eyes flicker over the food, Vegard realises that in spite of the uncomfortable feeling he has on his stomach he is indeed hungry, very hungry, so he reaches for one half and a takes a bite. The cheese is partially melted as his teeth dig on the crusty of the sandwich, a perfect contrast with the fridge-cold tomato on the inside. Hell, it tastes like glory. While he silently eats, Vegard finds himself wondering again what happened downstairs, where is Elise, why is Bård in his room instead of with the girl he wants to be with. In turn, Bård has a curious grin on his face, and he feels his blue eyes on him as he devours the food with great speed.

“Good?” The golden haired boy bubbles, grabbing half a sandwich for himself.

“ _Really_ good,” Vegard replies shortly.

With a firm hand, he reaches for one as well, this time taking his time to enjoy the flavours rather than devouring the food like some kind of wild anything, gaze refusing to leave his brother’s face in search for any clue. The yellowish streetlight is at his back, so it does a good job to illuminate his Bård’s face. He doesn’t look upset, Vegard can find even traces of happiness on his features, which make him be at ease. Nothing bad must have happened if Bård keeps that silly grin plastered on his face.

“What’s up with the banana?” Vegard asks once he’s done with his sandwich.

“Oh, banana’s mine,” Bård exclaims happily, bringing the fruit closer on his lap. “It’s finally ripe.”

Vegard laughs. “Okay, I won’t steal your banana. Can I grab another sandwich, though?”

“Yeah, eat them all, if you want,” his brother says with honesty as he pushes the tray closer to Vegard. “You look like you haven’t eaten in all day.”

“So you’re saying I look really bad.” There are three halves left on the plate, so Vegard figures he’ll eat two more and leave one left for Bård. He’s got the banana too, anyway. “Thank you.”

He waves at him. “Not that I can entirely see you when you’re in the dark.”

Vegard chuckles to himself as he reaches for his corresponding half of a grilled sandwich. They eat in silence again, curiously staring into each other’s eyes. It is rather funny how they both have mastered the art of being able to keep eye contact with anyone as they are doing another activity, something that most people would find uncomfortable is so natural and common for them that they often do it on purpose with other people to see them awkwardly glancing away.

“Vegard?”

“Huh?”

“I told Elise to leave,” Bård bursts out all of the sudden, and Vegard almost chokes on his food due to the sudden revelation.

“Why?”

“I don’t know…” He shrugs, peeling his banana. “She wasn’t that interested in the movie and I think we didn’t entirely click, anyway.”

Vegard is distracted by the way Bård’s mouth closes around the banana to take a bite, but he makes himself look away to concentrate on his words rather than his actions. The lack of sleep is doing him no good. The slamming of the door now makes sense, as does the silence he felt earlier. His eyes settle on Bård again, trying to understand why has he done that after almost two weeks that were completely dedicated to her. Vegard remembers what he snapped earlier, but could’ve Bård told her to go because of that?

No, he would not throw it all away for his stupid words.

 _Would he_?

“You really seemed to like her, saying how hot she was all the time,” Vegard taunts carelessly, knowing his brother won’t get upset by a little teasing. “I thought you were perfect for each other.”

Bård chuckles, looking down at his hands. “Shut up, Vegard, she isn’t you.”

 _Oh_.

Perhaps Bård isn’t aware of what he’s saying, or the impact it has on Vegard as the words reach his ears, but if he does, then he sure does know how to hide it behind his blond hair and shy smirk. His heart starts beating faster as he doesn’t find signs of regret or mischief on Bård’s face. _He meant those words_. Vegard wants to say something, tell him that it’s different, that he knows Bård likes her and knows that she likes him, but he keeps silent as he lets the words sink in.

They finish the rest of the food in silence, Bård eating his banana and Vegard devouring what’s left of sandwiches, until he is so full he’s afraid of getting stomach ache the next morning. It would be totally worth it, though. Vegard limits himself to crack a smile every time their gazes meet, feeling how his cheeks heat up, again thankful of the darkness surrounding him. He knows he shouldn’t internally celebrate that Elise is gone, but what else is he to do? He is happy about it, and Bård doesn’t seem to mind it at its least.

“Thanks for the food, though,” Vegard breaks the silence, grabbing both drinks from the nightstand and handing one to Bård. “I was starving.”

“Glad I am clever enough for the two of us.” He empties the whole glass of soda in one big gulp, and licks his lips before letting the empty glass fall in the space left his crossed legs. “Are you still tired?”

“Yes,” he replies frankly. He rubs his thighs, instantly becoming aware of his weariness now that his brother mentions. “Should probably sleep soon.”

Bård retrieves the tray from the mattress and puts it on his thighs. “Good. I should probably go and do the dishes.”

“Do you need any help?” He asks, eyeing Bård’s long body as he gets up from the bed. Vegard is impressed by how tall Bård has gotten in the past years, he’s physically changed so much yet his face is still the same.

“Nah, don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” Bård slightly bends over to grab the glass from the bed and motions Vegard to hand over his own. Vegard empties the glass in a moment, the cold liquid going doing his throat quickly. He hands him the empty glass in return, standing from the bed as well. “I’ll be right back.”

Bård turns on his back and exits the room, and all Vegard does is stare at his back as he disappears. Hell, he feels so many things as he stands there beside his bed that it’s hard to know what to do now that he’s on his own. Vegard feels stupid to no end, and also extremely glad she is gone and relieved. Fuck, so relieved. Vegard cracks a smile and laughs at himself, at the emotional mess he is right now, at how his mood can change by Bård’s words and doings. Whether that’s pathetic or not doesn’t really matter now, he can breathe properly now.

Vegard stretches a bit and hears the bones at his back crack, stinging a bit. He wishes he could’ve slept a bit more during the afternoon because a nice talk with Bård would surely improve his night, but as his mind has apparently shut down after knowing Elise is gone Vegard estimates he’ll fall asleep as soon as he wraps himself on a blanket and has a soft pillow under his head. With laziness, Vegard drags his feet all the way onto the hallway and heads straight to the bathroom. He’s acting like a robot by now, getting the mint toothpaste on his brush and proceeding to brush his teeth in a rather automatic manner.

Just as he’s coming out of the bathroom Vegard almost crashes against Bård on the hallway. The two brothers share a small smile before the younger continues the way to his bedroom. Vegard means to go to his room as well, but he catches a glimpse of Bård’s naked back out of the corner of his eye and he finds himself idly staring at his brother’s body as he gets rid of his clothes. He actually peeks into the room to get a better look at him, at his back muscles in contrast with the dim light coming from the lamp on his desk, at his ridiculous red boxers and how they now illustrate his brother’s bottoms better. Blinking, Vegard quickly looks away.

 _I definitely need to sleep_.

To keep his eyes from roaming over Bård’s body, Vegard turns around and paces into his own bedroom. He is about to close the door behind his back when he feels something pushing the door even more open and all of the sudden there’s another body slipping into the room at his side. Bård’s there, wearing the stupid red boxers and the very same jumper he wore in the morning, Vegard’s jumper. He carries a smile on himself as he passes by Vegard’s body and to stand in front of him.

“Everything’s done downstairs,” he informs.

“Thanks, Bård,” Vegard speaks with honesty, reaching to squeeze his brother’s shoulder gratefully. “And thanks for the food, it was really good.”

“There’s nothing to thank,” Bård says with a shrug.

“Very well, you dork.” His reaches to ruffle Bård’s short hair, the lack of energy present on his all of his feeble movements. “I’ll try to get some sleep now, is that’s fine by you.”

As a reply, Bård steps back and Vegard’s hand drops to the empty space now between them. The older brother keeps the door open for him, rubbing his eyes in circular motion until they hurt, but instead of wishing him a goodnight sleep and heading to the hallway, Bård’s body falls backwards in a comic manner and lands over Vegard’s bed.

“Bård, what are you doing?”

“Building the great wall of China,” his brother replies with a cheeky grin as he crawls on the bed until his head is resting on top of Vegard’s pillows, pulling the duvet from the bottom of the bed and throwing it over his long body. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“I know what you’re doing, but…” His words die in a deep sigh, and Vegard realises he doesn’t have the energy to question his brother’s actions. He closes the door with a soft thud and quickly sits on the bed opposite to Bård, covering a yawn with his hand. “Why?” He asks shortly, yet he means to say why today, why after rejecting Elise and coming here and saying all of the nice things he says that mean the world to him. _Why_.

“Because you told me you couldn’t sleep,” Bård says in a whisper, mirroring a yawn. “Maybe you’ll sleep better if I’m here.”

And Vegard does not doubt his words. If his mind has already stopped coming up with paranoid theories and the constant uncertainty of what the future was going to be like if Bård and Elise got serious have both died with Bård’s recent statement, he assumes that by having Bård at his side while he sleeps will truly help him get through eight hours of decent sleep night. Perhaps they can even sleep a little longer than usual, Vegard really needs to recover his energies. Mentally he feels better, but the weariness on his whole body is present whatsoever, in spite of the new fuzzy feeling he gets spreading across his chest as he eyes his brother.

“You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to, Bård.”

“Vegard, just shut the fuck up and come here,” he urges in a rather snappy voice, scooting over until he’s certain Vegard will fit at his side. “You look like you’re going to fall asleep sitting up.”

There’s no point in putting up a fight with allowing the other in bed, they’ve never discussed about it before and they sure aren’t about to begin now. The only reason Vegard would tell Bård to go is if he could be certain Bård is doing this by obligation rather than because he truly wants to, but Vegard finds no reluctance on his features nor his body language, Bård is looking up at him with an inviting smile and patting the empty space next to him. Vegard decides to give in without further questioning, lying down next to Bård under the wrinkled duvet.

Usually, Bård would end up snuggling closer and he would throw his arm over his shoulders to keep him close to his chest, but tonight is a bit different. Vegard craves for Bård’s comfort, for the closeness he’s missed and that has made him turn into a paranoid insomniac. Instead of doing what would be automatic, Vegard nuzzles closer to Bård, fitting his head on the crook of his neck and letting his arm circle around his brother’s waist. His nose is right against Bård’s collarbone, and he cannot keep himself from taking all of Bård’s scent in, a pleasant smile drawing on his face. It’s funny how only in that position their feet are at the same level. Bård has grown up way too fast. Promptly, arms are wrapping around Vegard, a firm hand settling on his nape, long and slender fingers moving up and down in a smooth caress.

“And Vegard?”

“Mmh?”

Vegard looks up, chin resting against Bård’s collarbone so their eyes can meet. Bård’s face is faintly illuminated by the light creeping through the window, and he is able to catch a glimpse of the way the corners of his mouth rise into a small and shy smile. How can Bård be so cute? Vegard tries to reciprocate the smile, but he guesses he looks like a zombie rather than cute.

“ _I’m here_ ,” he says, eyelids fluttering open as if to make a remark on his words. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good, Bård,” Vegard whispers back at him, struggling to keep his eyes open. “‘Cause neither am I.”

They don’t need more words, those are enough for them to understand what the other is saying. Vegard holds his gaze for some seconds before dropping his head back into the crook of Bård’s neck, snuggling closer until he feels incredibly comfortable. One of Bård’s legs finds its way between Vegard’s, tangling their limbs together in a loosen lock.

The soft puffs of air coming from Bård’s semi parted lips are the last thing Vegard hears before he falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

With the pass of the days, everything begins falling back in place. Bård keeps his promise to sleep beside Vegard for a week straight, no one in the house commenting on it, just as if it’s one of the most common things in the universe. Nonetheless, Vegard’s sleeping pattern fixes itself on the second night. He goes at bed at eleven PM and wakes up at seven AM with Bård peacefully asleep in his arms.

With every touch, every look, every interaction they have in the following days, Vegard starts to realise something, and it frightens him to no end. He loves Bård, even when he’s never brought himself to confess it out loud it’s a fact that he loves Bård more than he’s ever loved anyone or anything else. But it’s as if someone’s flipped a switch inside of him. He notices the little fuzzy feeling he’s always had in his stomach whenever they touch to start growing bigger, spreading like wildfire on his insides. He also finds himself staring at Bård, inspecting all of his features and.

Vegard has always loved Bård, but it’s only now he realises he doesn’t only love him— _he’s in love with Bård_.

And he knows, hell, he _knows_ it’s wrong, but he also understands why he feels that way. Bård has always been there, Bård makes him happy, Bård is the most important thing in Vegard’s life, and that’s why he needs to keep his new discovery to himself.

Who’s ever said love is an easy thing?

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for any typo or/and if something doesn't make sense.


	3. .iii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, another update! Yes, I wanted to update this work for Christmas Eve because this chapter is sort of Christmas-y. Yeah, sort of. And a bit shorter than the last one (which I don't know whether it's a good thing or not). I owe [Niv](http://archiveofourown.org/users/londoneyedgirl/) a lot because she encouraged me to write this one a night about one month ago. Bless your soul friend ilysm.
> 
> Anyway, thanks to all of you who have been reading this silly thing! It means a lot to know people are liking it and I really hope the rest of this work will also be up to your expectations.
> 
> Merry Christmas! :D ♥

_2002_

 

The sun is slowly setting behind their backs as Bård and Vegard make their way to the closest grocery store. They could’ve easily taken the bus, or maybe even get there by car, but Bård suggested it would be nice to take a walk through the city, so he simply agreed without giving it much thought. It’s very cold outside, and Vegard keeps on noticing out of the corner of his eye how his brother keeps rubbing his hands together in hope of warming up as a result of the newly created friction. A part of him wants to desperately reach for one of Bård’s hands and put it on the inside of the front pocket of his jacket, considering that his brother doesn’t have that kind of compartment on his clothing, yet another part of himself is quietly telling him those kind of behaviours should have ended right when they hit puberty. Not that the two of them really care about that, but this time Vegard decides to listen to the wisest voice of the two.

“Cold, huh?” He says with a little snort, looking at his brother’s face.

Hell, the dreamy expression that crosses Bård’s face makes him look absurdly cute in the cold of the morning. His hair is hid by a blue beanie, yet some of the longer locks of golden hair are slightly sticking out, the tip of his nose red from the cold, matching his pink lips. And the eyes, _always_ those eyes. They seem even a brighter shade of blue, an optical illusion Vegard very much appreciates, created by the scenery behind Bård’s back and accentuated by the beanie he wears. In fact, the word cute isn’t the appropriate word to describe him— Bård looks absolutely gorgeous.

“Should’ve grabbed my gloves,” Bård offers him as a short reply.

Vegard just smiles sympathetically at him. “Come on, we’ll be there soon.”

The younger brother just nods and Vegard gives him an encouraging pat on the shoulder as he speeds up his pace on the sidewalk, Bård’s footsteps soon matching his own, still rubbing his hands together.

Christmas Eve is getting near, it’s just around the corner, and it’s the first time in forever the two of them will spend it without their parents and youngest brother. The family has chosen to travel these holidays, and both Bård and Vegard concurred on being too tired to go with them on a long journey. Just the thought of packing their bags made the brothers sigh and tell their parents they weren’t going. They’ve decided to stay home instead and have a little Christmas by themselves, which is okay, because they are adults now, and it’s been a little over six months since they left their parents’ house to move into a little apartment on their on.

Moving in together wasn’t a surprise for anyone in their family nor in their small group of friends, perhaps something that everyone had silently suspected ever since the Bård graduated from high school. It’s a good place in which they can have the freedom to create new things for their shows, practice with their instruments loudly at whatever time they want to. However, during that particular afternoon they have decided to take a well deserved rest from what their jobs now are. No practices, no writing, no coming up with new ideas. Just a little time to relax, even if Vegard is aware that his little brother’s brain might be working by itself and archiving ideas in some corner of his mind for later.

“I’m fucking freezing,” Bård says, using the fucking Donald the Duck voice that makes Vegard cackle every time.

“It was your idea to go by foot.”

“And I don’t regret it, but _fuck_ , it’s cold.”

Shaking his head, Vegard smiles to himself as he walks beside Bård. Looking at the small path they’ve been on for a couple of years, Vegard can’t avoid the proudness from spreading across his chest. He is so proud of them, of Bård, of everything they’ve achieved together in the last couple of years. At times he can hardly believe their new and unexpected fame is real, mostly because everything happened way too quickly for him to get a grasp on reality. Vegard has a clear memory of how everything started, how he was still helping with a musical arrangement for one of the school theatre’s plays Bård was on when the younger bursted out the door to tell Vegard a man had been interested on his talents during a rehearsal and that Bård had told the man he had an older brother just as talented. After that, and a couple of performances to show more of their skills, their lives took a major turn towards the performing arts.

Suddenly they were embraced by the life on scene, welcomed by the lights being casted on them as they stood upon a stage, joking and playing music just as if they’ve been born just for that. It hasn’t been as easy at it sounds in his head, not at first, they’ve had some downs along the small road they’ve been on, but in spite of the two or three performances that didn’t go as planned, Vegard can say that it’s one of the best things that have ever happened to him. And he knows Bård agrees on that.

To be able to do what he loves is amazing, but to be able to do it with Bård, of all the people, with _him_ , is something else, something special, something above words. Vegard actually cannot describe the way he feels inside when he is holding a microphone and he can feel a hundred pair of eyes on him, maybe judging, others simply enjoying the show he puts for them, and then he looks to his side, finding those blue eyes staring back at him. It’s like he feels a hundred times better, _happier_. Bård is there and it’s all Vegard needs to give all he has to offer without holding back.

With the pass of the time they have managed to find each other’s weaknesses and work on them, as well they’ve gotten to discover each other’s multiple skills by trial and error. They know each other at their best, know that Vegard’s strength is music and Bård’s is humour, yet they are skilled enough to fit in every aspect of their shows. They know each other so well that people are often saying they seem to have some sort of mental connection, because before one of them finishes speaking, the other already know what he’s talking about, just as if they shared one mind. Bård and Vegard have always been close, especially during and after their years spent in Africa, but if they could’ve probably grown closer than that, they did, and that’s been both a blessing and a curse for Vegard.

With the pass of the time his sudden realisation of the feelings he has for Bård only became clearer, something plain obvious that he now can’t help but wonder how didn’t he notice before. The feelings don’t inspire proudness on him, he can never be proud of the urges he constantly feels to close the distance between them whenever they’re close enough and seal their lips in a kiss, because _oh_ , how he dies inside to know if his pink lips are as soft as they seem to be, if they taste as sweet as candies. There are so many things he wants to know about Bård that can’t be considered normal things brothers need to know about each other, and he knows he will never know what his lips taste like, nor they texture, and that’s okay. In spite of his feelings and urges, Vegard still manages to keep their relationship open and affective as it’s always been. What kills him inside from time to time is knowing that Bård doesn’t notice the excess of emotion behind Vegard’s touches and words, of the amount of love hidden behind stolen looks and weak laughs. However, Vegard knows it’s better this way. At times he doesn’t know whether he would rather to keep it a secret to protect Bård or to keep himself from losing his brother, which would be pretty selfish. _Maybe both_ , he figures.

“Finally!” Bård exclaims happily when the groceries store is on sight. He blows air on his hands, the breath visible on the air. “Come on!”

The next thing he knows is that Bård is jogging energetically and crossing the street with large steps, leaving Vegard behind. So typical of him to act just like a child at any given moment it brings one of the most honest smiles to Vegard’s face. That’s one of the many reasons Vegard’s chest warms up whenever he looks at his brother while the other isn’t looking.

Soon he finds himself walking into the store as well, eyes instinctively searching for Bård across the place once he’s embraced by the warmth of the inside. It’s quite cozy on inside of the store, so Vegard takes his own gloves off and tugs them on the inside of his front pocket.

“How much hot cocoa do we need?” Bård asks, appearing right by Vegard’s side with a shopping cart right before the older brother can properly search for him. “And what brand? There are like a thousand different brands.”

“We don’t really need much, and just the instant one,” he muses, taking the lead and walking through the first hallway on the nearness. There are several cereal boxes filling the tall shelves, which means he’s headed on the right way. It’s a wonder how after visiting the very same groceries store he hasn’t get the chance to memorise which hallway stands for which group of food. Vegard keeps on ambling idly through the place, and he doesn’t need to tell Bård to follow him, he knows his brother is close behind him. “We should also buy some microwave popcorn if we are watching the movie later today.”

“Hey, what do you mean by _‘if’_ we’re watching the movie?” Vegard suddenly feels the metal front of the cart crashing against his bottoms, causing him to stop for a brief a moment just to shoot Bård an annoyed look. “We _are_ , Vegard.”

“Didn’t know you were so eager to watch something we’ve watched at least one thousand times already.”

“Oh, shut up,” Bård jests and moves the car forward so he stands beside Vegard, taking a turn and walking into a different hallway. “It’s been a while since we sat down and done nothing for a change. We deserve a rest.”

“I know, but it’s not like we’re watching it for the first time, you know,” he confesses and keeps walking until he stands before the shelf with several brands of hot cocoa. His eyes idly roam over the boxes before him, trying to spot what he’s looking for.

“That’s better, because I can fall asleep in the middle of the movie and wake up later and I’d already know what I missed.”

“So you don’t really want to watch the movie.”

Again, Bård purposely crashes the front of the cart against the back of Vegard’s thigh. “You know I do.”

“Yeah, I guess that I do. And it seems you’ve got a plan already, I see.” Vegard laughs. It isn’t much of a surprise to have Bård falling asleep while watching a movie, and if they’re watching a new movie, he always ends up giving him a brief summary of what he’s missed. It’s never bothered Vegard, to be honest, but whenever they whole family is in the living room, he can feel Bjarte’s silent judgment as Vegard quietly explains what has happened to Bård. “I think we should buy some more for another occasion,” he suggests as he throws two boxes of instant hot cocoa with little marshmallows into the cart, his favourite kind. “Just to make sure we have provisions for later.”

“And this…”

Bård’s voice trails off and Vegard turns around to face him. Bård’s long and slender fingers are holding a large, brown bottle of chocolate syrup, the same brand they had at their parents’ house. Vegard doesn’t even have to ask what it is for. He nods and grins in approval, motioning Bård to throw it into the cart as well and keep on walking to the other end of the hallway, just where the junk food is at. They aren’t much of a junk food lovers, but once standing before the large shelves, Vegard does grab a bag of natural crisps, the ones he and Bård used to eat on random weekdays after school, and puts it into the cart as well. Bård doesn’t have much to add to their collection of food, so the brothers keep on moving forward.

It is Bård the one who spots the boxes that contain quite a large amount of microwave popcorn on them. There are several types to pick from, some cheese flavoured, others that have extra butter. Vegard is somehow tempted to grab a package of the caramel ones, but Bård reaches for two natural flavoured before he can grab it.

“That’ll do,” Bård says with a grin, and Vegard gives him a small hum in reply.

They don’t even bother inspecting other corners of the grocery store, determined to buy only what they’ve grabbed, so they go straight to the cash registers. Vegard is frequently the one who keeps track of their grocery shops, and he knows that with what they’ve got back at home at the moment they can go at least a week before needing anything from the store. They are going out to get dinner at a restaurant on Christmas Eve, anyway, so there’s not much to worry about.

A young lady sits behind the cash register this time, and she doesn’t greet Vegard after he’s mumbled a polite salute at her. Somehow the girl’s big grey eyes are focused on something else beside him. He cleverly follows her gaze with his eyes and instantly comprehends what is going on. She’s looking right at Bård with an alluring grin glued to her face. Suddenly, he feels as if someone has just flipped a switch on his insides that makes him go from his usual kind and polite self to a complete different person. Even his posture changes, back instantly straightening and fingers lancing together as he waits for her to at least attend him. His eyes register everything, from the way the lady — _Anna_ , the name can be read on the pin she carries on her red shirt— looks at his brother with hungry eyes, the same way a wild animal would look at its prey, to the way she keeps on battling her long eyelashes at him.

The younger brother seems to be conscious of the situation, his cheeks putting on a little bit of colour as he places the products on top of the counter. Again, she keeps her gaze fixed on Bård as she idly types numbers into the cash machine. Is she even aware of what she’s doing?

Vegard clear his throat loudly then she takes longer than expected to give them the receipt. Still then, she carries a cheeky grin on her face and keeps her eyes on bård, only drifting her gaze to acknowledge Vegard’s presence.

“Here,” Vegard says, estimating the final fill in his head and handing her the money. “You can keep the change.”

“Can I keep _him_ instead?” She suddenly speaks, and her voice is just as annoying as he pictured it to be.

Vegard’s face turns into one of the greatest frowns of humankind, and he only hopes it is as noticeable as he intends it to be. He takes a protective step before Bård to stand right in between the lady and his brother. It isn’t much of a genius plan, considering that Bård is taller than him and she can still see him, but Vegard doesn’t move, if only to make a point, hoping she would stop.

“No, you can’t,” Vegard says with a frivolous tone.

“Aw, that’s really a shame. He is a cutie,” she says with fake sadness as she packs the products into bags. Then, just when she’s about to be done, she giggles, battling eyelashes at the younger brother. “Can I at least have his phone number?” She asks, and she bites her lower lip as she does so, white teeth contrasting over her bright red lipstick.

“No,” is the ultimate answer, and this time the response comes in unison from the two Ylvisåkers, although Vegard’s voice is way more firm than Bård’s.

There is a brief moment of silence, an awkward kind of silence in which the only sound Vegard can sense is Bård’s soft breathing on the back of his neck. Perhaps he’s overstepped a boundary by giving such a witty response, but exactly who the fuck does that lady think she is to look at his brother as if he were a piece of meat? She even appears to be five or six years older than Bård, at the least.

“Oh, okay,” she says as she finally finishes packing the things. Anna clears her throat and pushes the bags on the counter closer to Vegard’s hands, and also throws the bill on the inside of one of the bags. “I see. Have a good day, boys!”

“We will,” Vegard retortes, voice dripping with fake kindness as an hypocrital smile draws on his face. “Thanks,” he adds, grabbing the bags from the counter, one in each hand, and instantly fleeing towards the entrance of the store.

Vegard awaits for Bård’s appearance before daring to go outside. The first thing he does once his brother is on sight is inspect his expression in search for any kind sign of annoyment or discomfort that could’ve been caused by Vegard’s behaviour, but, gladly, as Bård gets closer, Vegard finds none. Instead, he is readjusting the beanie on the top of his hair, even more strands of hair coming out of it, and he’s starting to rub his hands together. Vegard chuckles. He shifts both bags into one hand and searches for his black gloves on the inside of the jacket’s pocket with his free one.

“Here,” Vegard says, offering the gloves at his brother. Bård’s blue eyes only grow wide in surprise. “Put them on.”

“But Vegard—”

“Come on,” he urges Bård before he can object again, and walks through the mechanic doors to the outside.

The brothers make their way to the apartment without any kind of haste, stopping a couple of times along the road back home to appreciate the nice views the nighttime in the city offers him. The sky is clear, tiny bright dots covering the sky above them. The bright lights aren’t only above their heads, but tangling in the leafless branches of trees around them, and the snow at their feet is like a blanket that covers the whole city. Vegard gives a click glance over at his brother and he can’t keep the smile off as he takes in notice that Bård’s nose has turned red again.

 

* * *

 

Everything is set quickly once they arrive. Every corner of the apartment ends up getting a faint smell of fresh popcorn once Vegard retrieves the package out of the microwave. He is on the kitchen whilst Bård waits for him on the sofa, taking care of the snacks they’ll eat while watching the movie. As soon as they got home, Vegard changed his winter clothes to put on grey sweatpants and a ridiculous black and white knitted Christmas sweater an aunt had gotten for him some Christmas ago. It stays hidden on the back of his closet along with the other ones he’s gotten throughout the years, waiting patiently for the holidays to be used. Vegard looks down at himself and feels quite good. He isn’t about to admit it out loud anytime soon, but there are some things about Christmas he enjoys a lot. Hot beverages, the amount of tiny lights on the leafless trees and cozy family time are ones of them. The whole deal about religion… well, that isn’t his thing.

Careful not to get burned, Vegard pours the inside of the popcorn package into a bowl, and then disses the empty package into the garbage can. After mixing the popcorn a little for the salt to get to the last of them, he warily grabs the bowl, wrapping an arm around it and grabbing two mugs from the counter with his free hand, hot steam billowing out of the round black and white mugs, a gift from their mother when they moved out. Bård’s mug is the black one, of course, he picked it before Vegard had the chance to give his opinion, claiming it was the most ‘metal’ out of the two. Funny thing is, despite being awfully good at electric guitar, Bård isn’t much of a metal love in what music concerns, but then again, Bård’s mind is like that, and Vegard lets him have it his way, wanton as he is.

The shape of Bård sat on the couch is the first sight Vegard gets once he walks into the living room; his knees tightly pressed against his chest as he idly strums the ukulele strings to the chords of a Christmas song. Before continuing his path, Vegard takes a couple of seconds to remember the name of the song, soon coming to his mind. _Sleigh Ride_. He breaks into a silent grin as the familiar melody reaches his ears and he’s able to place the lyrics into the song. Vegard resumes his walk into the room, and Bård’s eyes shoot upward as he slowly approaches the couch, their gazes immediately finding each other, though Bård doesn’t stop playing when he notices his presence. In fact, he carries a similar grin on his face.

“ _It’ll nearly be like a picture print by Currier and Ives,_ ” Vegard sings with raw passion, just as if he were standing on stage with a choir at his back. “ _Those wonderful things are the things we remember through our lives._ ”

They probably know all of the classic Christmas songs thanks to the school choir, so it isn’t much of a surprise when Bård joins in, doing the harmony to accompany Vegard’s deep voice. As he keeps on singing, Vegard manages to place the two hot mugs over the table that stands before the sofa, and the bowl of popcorn safely lands on the sofa next to Bård. They sing together for a little while, Vegard messing up the lyrics once or twice in a row, but Bård’s voice leading their way through the song. He stands in place and moves his hands just as he’d do on stage, faking an overtone of inspiration, whilst Bård stays with knees pressed against his chest, looking smaller than he actually is.

“ _Come on it’s lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you,_ ” they both finish the Christmas carol, Bård strumming repeatedly on the ukulele strings as a big end.

“Feeling Christmas-y, are we?” he jokes once their giggles come to an end.

“I’ve had that song stuck in my head ever since that old man was humming it outside the theatre.”

“That was two weeks ago,” Vegard points out, lifting an eyebrow. “But that explains why you were singing it this morning on the shower.”

“You heard me?”

“I was making breakfast, so naturally I noticed,” he offers. “But in my opinion the song sounds better on piano than on the ukulele. I could show you how to play it in tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, in the morning, ‘cause I don’t think of standing up from this sofa in a _long_ while,” Bård says, stretching his arms with his eyes closed. Vegard merely shakes his head and falls on the cushion next to him, holding the bowl of popcorn.

“Lazy ass,” he accuses.

“We said we were going to take some time to rest, and I don’t know about you, but I meant it.” Bård leans over to exchange the small stringed instrument in his hands for the hot mug from the table. “Nothing will make me change my mind now.”

With a soft expression Vegard stares at him, at the way he now sits cross-legged, and he feels mesmerised by the contrasts of Bård’s pale neck with the black fabric of the shirt he wears, his eyes tracing all the curves and lines of Bård’s neck, continuing down to his adam’s apple and both collarbones. Bård leads the mug to his mouth, and he inhales deeply before taking a sip. It’s there, right in the moment when Bard's face lights up as the beverage reaches his taste buds, that pure and cute instant when his blue eyes flutter open and the corner of his is what makes Vegard feel like the happiest man in the world.

“It’s coffee!” Bård exclaims cheerfully in surprise, just as his twelve years old self would, a very similar mustache of white foam drawing above his thin upper lip. Vegard can reach over to wipe it off with a thump, just like he’s done several times before, but he chooses to remain still this time. His brother looks way too cute and Vegard knows better than to give in to the need of having unnecessary physical contact. It doesn’t really matter, Bård’s tongue is soon flickering over his lip, anyway, licking the foam off himself. “I thought you were going to make the hot cocoa, since you were a little bit excited about it.”

“It has tiny marshmallows on it.”

“Yeah, I get that you love it, that’s why I expected that.”

“What can I say?” Vegard gives him an overreacted shrug. “I am full of surprises.”

Bård laughs at his words. “I bet you’re just giving me the coffee so I won’t be able fall asleep.”

“As if we both don’t know that is exactly what is going to happen.”

“Okay, mister _I-know-it-all_ , DVD’s already on, you just have to press play whenever you want to.”

“Very well. Popcorn’s ready, hot drinks are ready, I am ready…” Vegard takes the remote control in hand, pointing it at the TV. “Are you?”

As a reply, Bård merely nods his head yes, half of his face hid behind the black mug. Getting the green light to proceed, Vegard presses play and puts the control back on the table, leaning back against the back of the couch as the first scene rolls on the TV screen.

For many families, Christmas is the time to watch that one movie they cannot seem to get tired of. It often is one that reflects on the holiday’s spirits, or maybe the one that simply makes them feel something different. They often rent it on DVD for a week and they watch it with the whole family gathered together. However, for Bård and Vegard it is a bit different. Instead of renting some sentimental film that’d probably leave them emotionally wrenched (even when neither of them would acknowledge it out loud), they keep on watching one of their favourite films of all time during Christmas, the one they don’t seem to get tired of; Monty Python’s Life of Brian. It’s not really Christmas-y, but they love it the same.

Vegard decides to ignore the tingling sensation left on his fingers whenever his hand meets Bård’s as they both put their hands into the bowl to grab a handful of popcorn. He knows Bård doesn’t mind, he doesn’t even flinch at the contact, though Vegard tries to press his hand against the plastic bowl rather than reach deeper for his popcorn. His eyes keep on deviating from the movie to set on Bård, he loves the moment right before his brother is about to burst into laughter. Vegard already knows the process, the way his lips first press into a line trying to suppress the chuckles, and finally breaking into a wide grin, cheeks up in amusement.

In spite of the amount of times they’ve watched the film, they laugh just as hard as the first time whenever they rewatch it together. Surely they have watched over a hundred times already, being it one of the few they actually might know from beginning to end, from the dialogues to the soundtrack, but it means a lot to them, even when neither of them is able to admit it out loud. During their years in Africa it was one of the two or three movies they had on VHS, and ultimately the one they’ve watched the most. Vegard loves it, and Bård does too, and he knows that’s there’s an unspoken agreement as on why it’s one of their favourite movies. It’s truly helped them in the shaping of their humour while growing up, Vegard reckons, and it’s a good thing. Ever since they’ve gotten back, they find time to watch the movie during the holidays, instead of some other flick-chick Christmas movie that might be just a little too cliché for them to properly enjoy. Though deep down Vegard knows Bård likes watching some flick-chicks from time to time, one of those little secrets he keeps to himself.

“ _Biggus Dickus,_ ” both brothers echoe the dialogue from the movie between the sound of their laughter combined into one.

The movie is almost by its half when Vegard notices the popcorn is almost over, only soft and cold ones left on the bottom of the bowl. The mugs are now empty, back on the table with some coffee stains on the inside. Vegard discards the bowl to the floor, placing it just at one of the sides of the couch. He is about to change his position, to sit cross-legged as Bård has been for most of the movie, but before he can even readjust himself on the couch, Bård’s head falls on Vegard’s lap, his body occupying the rest of the couch. He is softly laughing as the screen cuts to Brian falling off a tower.

Vegard knows he should probably push Bård off him and say that he isn’t a human pillow, but he doesn’t have that in him. And he doesn’t want to, either. Bård is nuzzling close and Vegard’s eyes hover over the length of his body, from the mess of golden locks to his toes, hid in black socks. He loves the closeness he shares with Bård, he loves the way Bård acts when they’re together without anyone else looking, loves having him just like this, even if he knows how wrong it should be, how wrong it should _feel_.

Ignoring what would be the common sense of backing the hell off, Vegard’s left hand finds Bård’s hair, and he starts to idly run his fingers through it. His gaze sets back on the television screen, Brian now about to haggle with the peddler, and in spite of the soft giggles escaping his mouth, Vegard finds himself completely immersed in his brother, in glancing down at him from time to time, in hearing him, in _feeling_ him. His hair is warm and soft like silk under Vegard’s fingertips, and as he doesn’t hear any complaints from Bård, he lets his fingers twine in the strands of golden hair.

“You’ve lasted longer than I thought,” Vegard comments in a low voice. “I seriously thought you’d fall asleep sooner.”

“I bet the caffeine already kicked in,” Bård replies. “But don’t despair: there’s still time.”

Vegard scoffs. “Still shocked about the coffee?”

“I was waiting for the hot cocoa, but got something better instead. I guess you are full of surprises, yes,” Bård mumbles against his thigh, and Vegard’s gaze falls on his face once more. “So many surprises.”

“Hmm?” He hums in reply. “What do you mean?”

“Earlier today, at the groceries store…” The younger of the two chuckles, and Vegard is unsure whether he finds amusement in the memory or the film. “That’s what I call a surprise.”

_Oh fuck_.

Vegard closes his eyes. He has been hoping Bård didn’t bring that matter up, he is not good explaining those kind of things. Emotions are easy to sort out but difficult to talk about. However, Vegard should’ve known that by Bård’s lack of comments about it ever since they arrived could only mean he was going to bring the matter up sooner rather than later.

“Hmm…” Vegard simply mumbles again, not really looking forward to hear what Bård has to say. It’s not that he’s scared of knowing what he thinks about it, it’s just that it makes him feel somewhat internally embarrassed of how he reacted. His fingers keep tracing lines back and forth Bård’s scalp, and he can physically feel him relaxing under his touch.

“Vegard…”

“Bård,” he says, imitating the tone of Bård’s voice.

“What happened back at the store?” Bård shoots directly at him.

Vegard quickly tries to come up with a funny answer, or perhaps laugh and point out what happens on the film, yet before he can find the words, Bård is rolling his head on Vegard’s lap just so their gazes can meet up. It makes it even harder to explain now that Vegard is able to look at those blue eyes that somehow make him feel exposed. He wants to look away, pretend he’s really invested into the movie, but he feels the invisible weight on his shoulders that come with Bård’s question, and he isn’t able to tear his gaze off him. How can he explain it in a nice way? Is there even a nice way of putting it?

“I don’t know…didn’t like her attitude towards us.” Feeling the usual warm sensation of embarrassment spreading over his body, Vegard looks away for a moment, sighs, and his eyes lock back with Bård’s. “Towards _you_.”

“I don’t know. To me you just looked sort of jealous,” Bård casually says with a small shrug and a silly smirk on his face, and Vegard’s blood turns cold, the popcorn mixing with the coffee in his stomach.

He knows he was plain too obvious, but he’d been wishing that at least if Bård had noticed his behaviour, he didn’t say a word about it. Vegard is aware it hasn’t been the first time he’s come with some overprotective and rather rude response when he notices someone’s interest on Bård, but it is the first time his brother actually fully questions him until getting a proper answer. In the past two years there was one occasion that Vegard still remembers clearly. They were outside the theatre, and a girl around Bård’s age approached them once the show was over. He can’t recall what she looked like, though he remembers the way she kept touching Bård’s shoulder as she spoke, her eyes fixed on his brother while Vegard stood next to him. He still doesn’t know what overtook him in that moment, but one of his hands set on Bård’s lower back and he dragged them both out of there. Perhaps it is one of the rudest things he’s ever done, especially to a person from the public. It actually look a while for Bård to question him about it, just when they were on the inside of the car driving off the place. His brother merely asked why had Vegard done that, but Vegard simply waved at him and told him it was nothing, and the subject died there. That’s the way it should be, not really looking further into Vegard’s actions, because if he does, Bård is probably not going to like what he finds in there.

As a thousand of thoughts cross Vegard’s mind, he finds himself retrieving the hand from Bård’s hair, swallowing hard the lump on his throat. Bård quirks an eyebrow at his actions.

“I mean, yeah, I know that I’m a handsome guy, but you don’t have to be jealous of my looks,” Bård continues with amusement, and Vegard narrows his eyes in suspicion. “You’ve got your own charm too. A turkish kind of charm,” he adds with a small chuckle.

Vegard’s feels the tension slowly leaving his body.

He doesn't know whether to laugh or punch himself on the face for freaking out so stupidly for some minutes. Of course Bård would never think he was jealous of the way the girl kept looking at him with hungry eyes, of her suggestive gestures, scared of Bård actually handing her his phone number, of course his brother would never consider such a twisted thought. Vegard can breathe normally again, hand falling back into the small mess of soft, golden locks that is his brother’s hair.

“I wasn’t jealous of your looks,” Vegard admits with ease, feeling no pressure to let the words out whatsoever. “Just stop thinking about it, I just didn’t like her impolite attitude. Treating customers the way a lion would treat its prey is no good way of treating the customers.”

“You’ve got a point there.” Bård rolls his head on Vegard’s lap again, snuggling against the fabric of his sweatpants as his eyes set back on the TV. “Although I thought you were going to punch her for half a second.”

“Come on, Bård, I’m not a violent guy.”

“You’ve been to the military.”

“Doesn’t mean a thing.”

After a giggle escapes his mouth, Bård yawns, and his right hand falls on top of Vegard’s thigh, squeezing lightly. “Right now I don’t have the energy to make my point, but I’m right.”

“Weren’t you saying that I fed you coffee in an attempt of keeping you up all night?”

“All night is a long term, I only mentioned during the movie,” he mumbles. “Anyway, it is a failed plan,” Bård mutters slowly, words followed by another yawn. “Just— shush, Vegard.”

“Want me to shut up?”

“Yes, shush. Just keep doing that, with your…” Bård’s voice trails off and he starts breathing even deeply through his nose. Vegard actually thinks he’s fallen asleep, but then he speaks again. “With your fingers. Do continue.”

Vegard’s heart starts to beat faster as the outcome of his brother’s words. He doesn’t comment of them, doesn't have anything to add, just lets his touches become softer, slower, feeling Bård’s hot breath going through the thin fabric of his sweatpants and warm up his skin.

“Vegard?”

“Uhm?”

“Do you like my hair?”

He chuckles, still running his fingers through his hair again. “Of course I do.”

“You should let yours grow too,” Bård mutters sleepily, snuggling against his lap. “It would be nice. So nice.”

The thought is funny to him. Vegard’s hair is curly and black, completely the opposite of Bård’s. He likes his hair, but as they grew up and Bård’s hair starter growing longer, Vegard never thought of doing the same. Not until now, at least. His fingers keep tangling loosely on Bård’s hair, playing with the strands of hair, at times caressing the top of his head with the palm of his hand. Perhaps he should let it grow longer than it already is, so they both have another thing in common. It would be quite cool, actually.

“Do you truly think so?”

“Hmm…yes. A hobbit of my own.”

“Hey! I wouldn’t look like a hobbit.”

Bård chuckles. “Short…curly hair…you _are_ a hobbit.”

“Oh shush it. But all this hobbit talk reminds me, when are we watching _The Return of the King_?” He inquires, but as Bård’s response doesn’t come right away he speaks again. “Bård?”

Judging by the lack of laughter and words coming from Bård, Vegard soon realises he’s fallen asleep. It actually doesn't take him much to hear the soft and little snores coming from his mouth, the ones that make Vegard’s face break into a warm smile.

Vegard really tries to concentrate on the rest of the movie, but his gaze keeps falling downwards to the shape of his brother peacefully asleep on his lap.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Two things: one, I 10/10 recommend _Life of Brian_ if you want to laugh for 1h30m. 
> 
> And two. Considering that I was hyped about uploading this new chapter for Christmas Eve, I want to say that updates won't be as often as they are right now. Don't worry, I will finish this work because I've got friends keeping me from writing other stuff atm, but jsyk _why_ there won't be regular updates from this chapter on. 
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter tho! Have a happy Christmas :D


	4. .iv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, guys! I hope you all have had an amazing start of the year. I hope it hasn't been too long since I last updated, but I haven't been home lately and welp it's been kind of impossible for me to upload the new chapter till now. I need to send all the kudos to [Valen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/take_a_bow06/), who was the first one to read this chapter and give me her opinions. I love you ♥
> 
> This is also quite a long chapter, I don't know how this happened. Edit: I tried to spot all of the typos and mistakes I made the first time I updated this, but please if you notice something's off, do tell me and I'll fix it right away! I'm sorry for all typos and grammar mistakes! :)
> 
> On a sidenote, this chapter references an episode of Norges Herligste, and is kind of spoiler-ish if you haven't watched it. Beware of this.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

_2007_

 

The door is wide open just when Vegard is about to walk into their editing room, holding one paper cup filled with freshly made coffee on each hand. He’s thankful the instant coffee machine had a worn but still working button with the word ‘mochaccino’ partially written on it, because Bård is a bit cranky after the two of them have been editing five or six videos in a row, and he knows a hot beverage can help his brother relax a little. Although his crankiness is mostly directed at technologic devices than at Vegard, who sits by his side and tries not to laugh when his brother becomes frustrated over the simplest things. A couple of hours ago, Bård almost deleted some parts of a clip on a dull attempt of segmenting it, something they can consider themselves experts on doing. Luckily, they were both able to save the full clip and Vegard segmented it himself, allowing Bård to take a little break, if you could call it that.

Working nonstop has always been easier for Vegard than it is for his brother. Sure, he gets distracted from time to time whilst he tries to focus on one task, mostly due to getting into random conversations with his brother in the middle of editing, which often means they have to rewind most of the episode in order to do the job properly. But Vegard always makes sure to get the job done, one way or another he doesn’t let the urges to procrastinate win him, he always gets motivated to finish what he’s started, and he knows that’s a quality Bård admires on him. However, right now his head is threatening to ache at any given time due all the hard working, and Vegard’s eyes would be burning up if it weren’t for the contact lenses. Looking on the bright side, the brothers are nearly done with the editing and they truly hope they can finish at least one last segment apart from the one they are currently working on before the clock hits nine PM in order to go grab something to eat together, because they are getting hungry.

One of Vegard’s feet is already inside the room, and his intentions are to cross the small distance from the door to the office chair he’s been sitting on for the last hours, yet he stops on his track when he notices Bård has settled their small filming camera back on the tripod and it stands in front of him. Vegard doesn’t know what his brother is doing, but the sound of Bård’s voice soon reaches his ears and he comprehends his brother must be recording something related to their newest TV show. Bård speaks in an animated tone, leaning over the desk with his elbow as he amusedly looks at the camera len. Whatever he might be saying, Vegard doesn’t quite get the hold of. He needs to close the distance. Vegard takes two steps into the room and closes the door behind him with his foot, causing his brother’s head to shoot at his direction. His voice trails off and his lips curve into a curious smile, to which Vegard reciprocates without really minding why. A smile is always welcome.

“But to be fair enough…” Bård speaks as he acknowledges Vegard in the room, chuckling to himself as his eyes settle back on the camera. As he’s got both paper cups in hand, Vegard passes in front of the camera without caring much for the reason as of why it’s settled there and feels Bård’s soft and gentle grip on his elbow as he falls back on the chair. “He is a very nice brother, very nice to deal with.” And saying that, he lets go of Vegard to offer him another smile. “Let’s watch more of it!” Bård says cheerfully to the camera, pointing at the clip playing on television screen before turning the camera off.

“And what were you rambling on about me?” Vegard enquires as he places Bård’s mocha closer to his brother’s hands.

“Thanks,” Bård replies dismissively as he swirls the small straw on the coffee. “Just stuff, nothing to worry about. Let’s keep on working so we can finish soon, I’m fucking starving.”

Reflecting on how hungry he is too, Vegard nods in agreement and decides not to push it any further. Deep down he is also tired of being in a room and cutting the excerpts from the interviews, adding music tracks and editing scenes every now and then, and he wants to get over with it as much as Bård does. It’s not something entirely bothersome to do, but considering that only Bård has had a small break in between editing, both brothers are rather tired at the end of that day.

“I started while you were gone,” Bård says, “but you didn’t miss much.”

Nodding, Vegard takes a big sip from his own coffee as his eyes glue to the screen of the TV where the video rolls, and immediately recognises the clip, one of the interviews that might be one of the funniest to watch. Without trying much he realises that the following scene is the one with the tarot cards reading. Vegard huffs as he drinks up, remembering the energy of the lady they met for their TV show. The dynamic of the show is easy, they travel all around Norway in search for the most beloved character they find along the way. This clip is about Ma Pantha Anjana, a very lovely lady to meet, with an excess of energy and glee, and she was nothing but kind to them when they visited, but Vegard never really clicked with her. There’s a great chance it might be because the raven haired man does not actually share any of her beliefs. _Right the opposite_ , he thinks. He remembers how much he struggled not to cackle at every kind of ambiguous meaning the lady tried to give about literally anything that crossed her mind. A bunch of nonsense, really. There’s nothing wrong with having faith in those stuff, he reckons, but he still cannot bring himself to take it seriously when she couldn’t even give a clear explanation as of why she decided to call herself Ma Pantha Anjana.

The scene keeps playing and suddenly Bård reaches over to pull the keyboard closer to himself, tapping some commands on the keys with his free hand, the scene jumping from Vegard’s tarot reading to Bård’s. A bit amused to see what was his brother’s reaction to the supposedly future-telling, Vegard leans on the chair, letting the coffee at the desk and crossing his arms on his chest. When Ma Pantha Anjana led the cards over the table again and told Bård to lift the one he felt a stronger connection to, Vegard didn’t really get to see it, so he doesn’t actually know how his brother reacted. A small talk about it on their drive back is all Vegard remembers about the issue, a vague comment Bård made about starting to believe in the tarot, but he simply waved it off and turned up the volume from the radio, which earnt him a giant annoyed groan from his brother. Vegard’s own tarot card was the ‘be quiet’ one, something quite abzu. Instead of giving a witty reply, which was what Vegard’s insides were urging him to do ever since he arrived, he ended up finding an old guitar with a missing string inside Ma Pantha Anjana’s closet.

However, now that they are off camera and only in the company of each other, Vegard finds a curious interest on finding out how his brother reacted to what the lady had to say, because on the footage they recorded his eyes are closed and his left hand hovers over the cards. Bård is somewhat sceptic as well, though not as much as Vegard is. He takes a look at Bård out of the corner of his eyes, to find him grinning at the screen and sipping from his coffee. Vegard lets his eyes longer a little more when he notices there’s a cream mustache over Bård’s upper lip, and before he realises what he’s doing, he is shaking his head and reaching to wipe it off with his thumb. Apparently he never learns.

“You’re twelve years old,” Vegard says jokingly as he grabs a napkin from the table and cleans his own thumb.  “You know that?”

“That’s why I would be lost without you.”

Bård grins widely at him, and Vegard is unable to tell whether he’s joking or actually revealing something and covering it with humour. Whichever the answer might be, Vegard pats his chest proudly and puts on a proud big brother façade, perfect for hiding his true feelings about it. Before he can say anything in reply, the voices on the screen catch his attention once more. On the screen, Bård holds the white tarot card in his hands and glances up at Ma Pantha Anjana with interest as he reads what’s on the card. Vegard can understand why Bård’s got a quizzical expression once he’s done reading the card, because it is ambiguous as heck.

“ _‘The shining way’_?” Vegard echoes and looks back at Bård with a quirked eyebrow. “What does that even mean?”

“What?” He asks, confused. “Don’t you remember the explanation?”

“I wasn’t really paying attention,” Vegard confesses, and it is his brother’s turn to shake his head.

“Keep watching.”

And so, Vegard does. His eyes only roam over Bård’s perfect profile for a little bit longer before turning back at the screen. It takes Vegard by surprises to find his brother so concentrated on the reading. If he didn’t know him better than anyone else he’d suspect Bård really trusted on what she had to say. Being in the same situation Vegard is in right now, the Bård on the clip asks the lady what the meaning of the card really is.

“ _Divorce,_ ” Ma Pantha Anjana’s voice says.

“ _Divorce?_ ”

“ _Cling— you should not…_ ”

“ _Not hold on to something?_ ”

“ _What do you hold on to?_ ”

“ _I don’t know… I have to think about that…_ ”

The shot then cuts to Vegard’s back as he’s got half his body inside a closet. He remembers trying to find another guitar inside the closet, which at the moment he found more interesting than what a randomly picked card had to say. Vegard knows he was a little bit rude with all the scepticism, Bård remarked it after they fled the house, so whenever they met other religious people on the show, he tried to behave as best as he could, keeping the sarcastic comments to himself and being as understanding as possible. He’s never been as good as Bård on being empathic with others, but he can work on it. Vegard snaps back to reality when he sees himself emerging from inside the closet, immediately remembering his brother’s eagerness on getting the camera to film him.

“ _It’s him! I hold on to him! And he needs to be quiet, to disappear, and I should be allowed to break free and do a show completely on my own!_ ”

“ _Maybe it’s not him who should disappear, maybe it’s you that should leave._ ”

Now that Vegard is able to tie the loose ends together, he feels a cold air blowing on the back of his neck. He shouldn’t worry over something he has absolutely no faith in, but it’s more than that. It’s what coming out from Bård’s mouth that matters. Vegard feels a lump forming on his throat. It shouldn’t make sense, he knows those things don’t really work and are entitled to mold to every person’s own problems, but he can’t unsee the truth beneath those words. Vegard has actually thought about it before, perhaps Ma Pantha Anjana’s words are right, perhaps in order to become a better comedian, musician, or even TV celebrity Bård needs to go solo, to face large crowds by himself, to entertain them just as he does best. Vegard knows that if he’s out of the picture, Bård will still be the same skilled comedian and musician that he is. Bård is a genius, he has known and seen that for years, even if he finds it hard to confess it out loud. Bård is clever, funny, gorgeous, his skills know no limits, and he never gives up. Vegard is similar, but Bård owns an unique charm that is incomparable.

He turns at his side to look at his brother, strands of blond hair falling on his face and hiding half of it. Still, Vegard is able to see the muscles fighting the battle of suppressing the smile from forming on his face. His gaze sets back on the screen, doing his best not to let Bård’s smile get to him. He does see the humour in the situation, the two of them being sceptics and getting cards that actually match to them, but he sees much more. The footage keeps running, and Bård is doing his work on putting an audio clip into the following scene, which he skips after being certain it’s presentable for the audience.

Another typing on the keyboard and the scene cuts to the part of the episode where Ma Pantha Anjana presents them the board that supposedly allows you to communicate with angels. There are two ways of doing it, either with the help of a pendulum or rolling the dices and advancing as many boxes as the sum of the dices tell. He sees the whole scene once more, and this time he doesn’t really chuckle, his mind still busy with analysing Bård’s words. Only when his brother’s face is the only one being filmed by the camera is when he focuses on the video once again.

“ _I’ve got the impression Vegard should be quiet, so I have to ask if this series would’ve been better if I had done it by myself…_ ” After Bård speaks, he throws the dices over the table. He gets a ten, and moves as many boxes as told, landing on the box with the words ‘OF COURSE’ written on it. At his side, Bård is echoing his own chuckles coming from the TV. “ _That says something._ ”

The camera then shifts as Bård moves, filming Vegard. “ _Did you find something out?_ ”

“ _Nothing I didn’t knew already._ ”

And that’s it. Vegard reaches for his cup of coffee and drinks up, finding it mildly cold by now, not really minding it. He needs something to swallow the lump on his throat. His eyes seem to drift away from the television screen to the computer to check how minutes are left to watch, silently thankful the recording is about to end.

He is tense, his back muscles seem to contract as he drains what’s left of his coffee on the cup. Vegard stares at the computer screen rather than at the television, Bård doing the job of fragmenting the last bit until it’s perfect. His eyes seem to lower to see his brother’s fingers working on the keyboard, adding one last music track as the last segment plays.

“Aaand, we’re done!” Bård exclaims, stretching just as he’s just woken up from a long nap, leaning his back against the back of the chair. Doing right the opposite, Vegard drops his arms over the desk and uses his upper arms as headrest. Bård’s eyes set on him, and his smile grows considerably wider as he places his hand on the back of Vegard’s head and tangles his fingers between his long curls. Vegard’s raven hair is so much longer now, still a bit shorter than Bård’s, but  really long. His fingers feel soothing as they brush his hair. “That was a funny one, huh?”

Vegard coughs uncomfortably while staring back at his brother. “Don’t know if it was funny, but it surely was something.”

“Come on, aren’t you starting to believe after watching this?”

“Me?” He chuckles. _After hearing your words, more like it_. “You know I don’t believe in that sort of stuff.”

“And neither do I, but apparently the universe is telling me to leave you and do my own show,” Bård says with a lopsided smile as he retrieves the hand from Vegard’s hair to rub his eyes. Staring at his brother’s features, Vegard swallows the lump on his throat. “What should I call myself when I go solo? Yl? Vis? You can have the remaining half.”

“I am too tired to think,” he tries to deviate the subject with a rather sleepy voice, reaching over to grab Bård’s empty cup and put it under his own before crossing his arms on the desk again. “How many clips do we have left?”

“Hmm.” His brother is then leaning over him, most of his hair falling right in front of Vegard as he reaches the mouse of the computer. He closes one of the five windows that are currently open, and a few clicks later a folder with two video files appear on the screen. “Two: _Pennesamleren_ and _Kiwi Bob_ , actually.”

“One more?” Vegard inquires just as Bård backs up.

His brother’s hand settles back on his nape and gives him a light squeeze. “One more.”

Vegard just needs to occupy his mind with something else for what’s left of their working hours.

 

* * *

 

Rather than staying at the editing room and ordering in a large pizza like they’ve done many times before, they decide to go to a nice restaurant thanks to one of Bård’s brilliant suggestions. His little brother stated he wants to eat real food for a change, and Vegard can’t actually argue with that logic. Before driving to the place, his brother calls in to book them a table, although Vegard doesn’t think it’s necessary at all, considering it is a wednesday at almost ten PM. The drive there doesn’t take them longer than fifteen minutes, and they even find the perfect spot to park the car once they arrive. Vegard believes it’s a good sign, at least the place won’t be too crowded and they’ll be able to eat sooner than he expected.

The restaurant they picked is ideal, not too large nor too small, but quite elegant altogether. They’ve been there a couple of times before, but never at night time. Something about the aspect it has at dark makes it seem fancier and quite exclusive. The tables are black and elegant, chairs that match the tables and lighten candles on the ones that are occupied. At least forty percent of the tables have people on them, though the voices are nothing than untellable murmurs as they walk past them. It’s nice. Dark red walls and most of the furniture black and white, the restaurant looks incredibly different at night, and Vegard can’t help but notice both of them are wearing rather ordinary clothes in consideration to people on sight.

“I feel we’re not dressed for the occasion,” he confesses with a low voice as Bård asks for their table. Soon, a waitress with blond hair and emerald eyes appears in front of them and tells them to follow her to their table.

“As long as we have enough money to pay for our food it doesn’t really matters what clothes we have on,” Bård says with a small grin. “Plus, I think you look good on that.”

Vegard looks down at himself and feels his cheeks blushing at the small compliment. Whilst Bård keeps on wearing the same grey shirt he wore the whole day, Vegard has swapped the white t-shirt and green jacket for a black jersey with a V-neck, one that Bård has seen on him a thousand of times already. The comment takes him with his guard down, especially because Bård only compliments him on his look when the two are alone or those moments when the blond is terribly sleepy. But now Vegard can only be thankful to see Bård’s back as the tallest brother keeps on moving forward.

Their table is located right on the corner of the restaurant. Vegard likes the spot, and he suspects Bård does too as he slips on the chair closer to the walls once their waitress places the menus on the table and reaches into her apron for a lighter. She doesn’t ask anything before lighting the candle over the table, but Bård bows his head in a silent way of saying thanks. Vegard sits across from him right away, kindly thanking the waitress for her help before she disappears between a zigzag of tables, her blond hair moving with every step she takes. With naturality, Vegard’s gaze falls on Bård as his brother inspects the menu in his hands. He stares at his nice features, completely mesmerised by his beauty at the yellowish light of the candle; his long hair keeps falling on his face and Vegard has to fight the inner urges to brush it off. The long eyelashes also cast a dancing shadow on his eyelids that move at the same rhythm his gaze follows the words on the menu. Bård looks beautiful tonight, even with his unwashed hair and informal clothes, he is beautiful as he has always been, and it brings a melancholic feeling back.

Vegard drops his gaze to read the menu as well, eyes hovering the list of main courses right away, reading idly each word three or four times before passing to the next on the list. To say he’s forgotten Bård’s words would be a shameless lie he is not willing to tell. During most of the ride to the restaurant Vegard's mind was filled with the echo of Bård’s voice repeating over and over again that it would be better if he had a solo career. Sure, they also spoke a little about random things, but most of Vegard’s answers were rather short and simple, even replying with hums instead of actual words. Bård noticed it, of course he did, and kept on poking Vegard’s side as his other hand firmly clasped the steering wheel, telling Vegard not to fall asleep. Truth is he wouldn’t have fallen asleep during that short trip, not even if his mind allowed him to.

“Have you made up your mind yet?” Vegard inquires, clearing his throat as he tries to take his mind off the thoughts that do him no good at all.

“Yeah,” his brother replies, gingerly closing the menu card and folding his arms on top of the table. Is the candle fire playing a trick on him or Bards features always soften this way whenever their eyes meet? “What about you?”

He gives an affirmative hum as reply. “I’m hungry.”

“I’ve been starving for hours, I’m literally going to die if we have to wait for too long.”

“ _Literally_ ,” Vegard echoes with a brief chuckle. He reaches over to stroke one of Bård’s arms sympathetically. “Positive mind, Bård, positive mind.”

His brother only groans loudly in annoyment as he drops his head on top of his upper arm. The curious eyes of some of the people at the place follow their movements, and Vegard can’t quite tell whether it is because they recognise them or because Bård is acting as if they were in private. Either way he finds the prying gazes significantly bothersome. Vegard retrieves his hand from his brother’s arm, and as a result of his actions Bård assumes a straight posture again.

Luckily for them their food arrives in shortly after the waitress takes in their orders, and the time of waiting for the food is occupied by a ten minutes chat over whether Andalusia is bigger than Portugal or not. Vegard doesn’t even remember how their conversation went from different kinds of bread all over the world to western European geography, but that twist in the conversations is the key to some of their greatest ideas. They know when to have moments of silence that rarely is awkward, yet it’s easy for them to talk about the most random things without actually getting tired of the conversation. The first to take in notice once the food is placed over the table is that Bård’s plate is considerably bigger than Vegard’s, a nice steak with mushroom sauce served by a succulent set of brownish baked potatoes and grilled onions. The smell is amazing, and Vegard finds himself regretting his spaghetti al pesto with an additional order of chips.

“Bon appetite, ” Bård says with a huge grin as he takes fork and knife in hand, and Vegard simply raises his glass up before taking a sip from his drink.

They eat mainly in silence, maybe because they both are truly hungry, devouring their food as they share small smiles between every bite, yet there’s a chance it might be for the thoughts still present on Vegard's mind. He swirls the spaghetti with his fork, yet his eyes keep drifting at his brother’s pleased face as he devours his steak first. Does that smile hide something else? What if Bård has been thinking about it for a long time and he’s been waiting for the right moment to tell Vegard? It’s very plausible that his little brother has been saving the news for a little longer, perhaps after they are done with Norges Herligste. They barely talk about what they are going to do after their current work is over, mostly because they are used to archive the best of their ideas and leave them for the near future, or often comment on them and find the other having the same thought. Perhaps this time it will be a little different, perhaps Vegard won’t be included on Bård’s plans anymore.

In a way it’s all been thanks to him. It was Bård’s talents that got him spotted by their former manager, after all. He shun like a bright star on stage, and that’s why Vegard doesn’t doubt Bård would’ve become famous one way or another. He doesn’t doubt of his own, unique talent, Vegard is well aware of the things he can do and the other things he can’t, yet he still believes Bård has always been the most likely to become famous out of the two of them. And in the end, Vegard does owe him a lot for dragging him into the showbiz, he could never had done it without Bård. It’s all been thanks to him and that brilliant mind filled with great ideas that complement the ones on Vegard’s own head.

They work as one, without needing to explain to the other what they are thinking because they naturally know the other _knows_ already. And it all comes natural to them, it isn’t like they’ve been consciously practicing ever since they decided to be together in this. Their synchrony and alikeness is just a product of the years of being in the company of each other, their bond only growing stronger as they grow older.

 _But all things must come to an end, right?_ he thinks to himself. _Bonds can be broken, things can change, people can evolve_. Nothing good can last as long as you want it to. Not even _them_. Vegard understands it, he knows it’s been about eight years of partnership in what their jobs now are, without taking in consideration Bård has spent his whole life in Vegard’s company, which would understandably justify Bård getting tired of him. There’s no point in denying Bård has had a great time by his side too, Vegard is well aware of that, but things in excess aren’t good. Plus, it’s past time Bård realised he doesn’t need Vegard to shine.

“These onions are incredible,” Bård comments after tasting the grilled onions left on his plate, gracefully bringing him back to earth. Vegard looks up from his own food; almost no pasta left on his plate and the order of chips remains untouched, eyes finding Bård’s pleased expression as he chews on the grilled vegetables. “Best onions I’ve ever eaten.”

“Is that why you’ve kept them for the last?” He asks, noticing the potatoes as well as the nice steak have disappeared from his brother’s plate.

“Of course. Come on, try one, they’re amazing.”

Before he can turn down the offer, Bård is shoving a fork with three grilled onions into Vegard’s face. He is able to notice the huge smile on Bård’s face through the small separations of the fork. He can’t really say no now, can he? Bård is amused about it and he can’t be a killjoy, in spite of how many times Bård has implied he is one. Vegard leans in slightly, taking the food in his mouth from his brother’s fork.  
  
“They are good,” he agrees, though it’s really his least favourite kind of vegetable.   
  
“More than good.” Bård points at him with the fork. “They are _unbelievabl_ e good.”

Grinning back, Vegard starts eating the chips now that he’s done with his pasta, hoping it replaces the taste of onions from his mouth. “You know I am not much fan of onions, though.”

“Of course I know, why else would I make you try them?” Bård puts on his troublemaker little brother smirk as he steals some more chips from him. “The fact that you cry like a baby when you cut onions is so amusing to me.”

“I bet it is. Though onions are evil,” Vegard hisses in reply, remembering how puffy and red his eyes were after helping Bård make some burgers some nights ago. His brother spent the entire time staring at him and eventually claiming that Vegard should cry more often because he looked like the younger brother whenever he did. “Tomatoes are _way_ better.”

His brother giggles to himself as he goes back to eating the food on his own plate. Perhaps he can say something about the Ma Pantha Anjana clip, ask Bård whenever  Vegard does the same too, feeling somewhat full from the pasta and realising he’s got too many chips left. Are they too greasy or is it that they’ve gone cold because he saved them for last, too? The taste feels numb on his tongue even as he digs them on ketchup to add them more flavour. Perhaps he’s too full to taste anything at all.

“It’s been three weeks, y’know?” Bård says all of the sudden, and Vegard’s head shoots up. “You haven’t minded the tarot card for three weeks, you don’t seriously need to _be quiet_ just now.”

“Uh.” If it weren’t common for him to have Bård saying something he’s been previously thinking of, Vegard would’ve firmly suspected that Bård has the skill to read his mind whenever he wants to for years now. Quite often Bård makes a comment about something that’s been in Vegard’s mind without having said a word about it before. It can be about the most random things, but at times it can also be about things that are quite meaningful to Vegard, like in this occasion. He stares at the flame of the candle for mere seconds before looking up at him. “I’m not quiet,” he snaps, using a fake offended voice.

His brother quirks an eyebrow at him and brings his fork to Vegard’s plate to help him with the chips. “Really?”

“I’m just tired, and you should be tired too. I heard you complaining about doing too much work by the third clip, but it’s as if food has recharged your batteries and you’re ready for anything.”

“It actually does give me energy, but I’m not about to go back and edit some clips on my own.”

“That’s fair,” Vegard says, the fork pinching the grilled onions and chips too. “We’ll finish them later.”  
  
The rest of the meal happens in the blink of an eye. Vegard ends up allowing Bård to finish what’s left of the chips and watches him eat, focusing on his movements rather than letting his thoughts go wild. They split the bill in two when it’s time. Vegard actually likes to pay for the food whenever they formally go out, but Bård often rolls his eyes and convinces Vegard to split the bill. There are times in which Bård is the one who invites for the food too, and it makes Vegard’s big brothers instincts rise up, because he’s always felt he is the one who needs to take care of his little brother, not the other way round.

Outside the restaurant the night feels colder than it should, and Vegard keeps his hands hidden inside his front pockets, walking silently beside his brother into the parking lot. Bård’s hair sways as he walks, and Vegard feels mesmerised by it as he quietly allows him to drive their way back to the car. There aren’t much people around, a couple of young girls with fur coats taking a smoke beside the streetlight, an old man having a discussion over the phone near a black Volkswagen and a family getting out of the car, possibly coming to have a lovely family dinner together. It’s a nice, silent night that can be perfect for staying up till three AM walking on the empty streets. Not that he will do that, though. All he wants is to get home and wash his face with cold water. Vegard’s eyes trail back to Bård’s back once they’re getting close to their spot, and takes a deep breath before following his brother to the door of the car.

“Bård, hold on,” he calls for him before Bård is able to get his hand on the door’s handle.

He turns to look at him with a furrowed brow. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m going to take a cab.”

“What?” Bård asks with confusion dripping from his voice. “Why?”

“Just so you can go straight home without needing to drop me off,” Vegard uses those words as excuse. He walks to stand in front of the passenger side and opens the door of Bård’s car. With a firm hand he reaches for the green jacket he left inside the car and pulls it off before closing the door. “I’ll just take a cab.”

“But Vegard, it’s okay, I have no problem driving you home,” he says, “you know that.”

Bård’s honesty is slightly cutting, especially when Vegard can distinguish the faint hurt in his voice. He’s never refused a lift before. They often take one car because their apartments are relatively close and they have no problem leaving the other at the door of their building after a long night, even staying in one apartment from time to time. In those common cases none of them take the couch. They have no problem sharing a bed, not even now they are considerably older, two men in the flesh, no boys any longer. It is true it has become a little bit of a struggle to sleep with Bård in the same bed and keep himself from touching his brother’s soft skin, but when Bård is clinging to him and tangling their legs together there is not much Vegard can do. That kind of closeness has always been constant between the two of them, and in spite of Vegard’s awareness of the way he feels for Bård, he has never been able to push Bård away if his brother is comfortable with the closeness they share.

But tonight events leave him feeling a tiny bit different, and all is thanks to overthinking and the weariness from a restless day of editing. Vegard would have probably dropped the whole thing if only it didn’t make as much sense as it does. Bård holds onto him, and that non so healthy necessity of being together is most likely to be the reason as of why Bård hasn’t had the chance to shine as bright as he is capable of.

“Yeah, I know, but it’s better if you just go back home, seriously,” he insists, taking a step back and forcing out a smile. “It’s fine. I can take a cab.”

Bård merely stares at him for a brief moment before nodding. “Okay. If that’s what you want,” he says, let Vegard knows all Bård wants is to grab him by his arm and pull him into the car.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be alright.”

“Hmm…” He taps his fingers over the roof of the car. “What time are we meeting tomorrow?”

Vegard’s eyes flutter closed as he draws in a breath. As expected, his plans for the next day involve Bård. _Right_. They’re supposed to meet the next day to play one of Bård’s new video game, and to do nothing more, really. Spending time together always leads to do things that are unplanned. They might go to the cinema, walk around the city, sleep the whole afternoon, read— there are a million of possibilities and Vegard never discards any of them. He’s looking forward to it too, because he knows how excited Bård has been about the video game ever since he bought it. However, as he stands under the parking lot streetlights, he hesitates—

Isn’t Bård sick of having him around? Wouldn’t it be better to give Bård space?

He needs to do it at some point.

_And when, if not now?_

“I don’t know, Bård, I think it’s better if we just take the day off tomorrow.”

“And isn’t that what we are doing?”

“Sort of,” Vegard says and immediately looks away. “But I think it’d be better if we stay at our own places tomorrow. We could actually rest, you know…”

“What?” Bård hisses again, this time his voice is soaked with confusion, hurt and a little bit of  bother. “And why is that? Are you going to sleep the whole day?”

“I don’t know.”

“Wha—…” His voice trails off. After a loud sigh, he speaks again. “Vegard, are you okay? Are you feeling like you’re going to be sick?”

“No, I’m okay, just tired.”

When their eyes meet again, Vegard can tell Bård knows it’s bullshit. But what else is he to do? There are no real excuses he can use to cancel their plans, there’s no possible way of saying he doesn’t want to be around Bård, because he truly _wants_ to. Thought what he wants is not important, not now.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” Vegard says, taking another step backwards.

“Text me when you’re home?” His brother says just when he’s about to turn around. “Just to know that you arrived safely.”

It’s quite corny, but Vegard understands why he does asks that, so he complies. “Sure thing. You do the same.”

“Alright,” Bård says softly, and opens the door to his car once again. “Goodnight, Vegard,” is the last thing he says before getting inside and slamming the door closed.

“Bye.”

Vegard turns on his heels and keeps on walking until he spots a bench in the other side of the street, ignoring the sound of the starting engine as he gets on the sidewalk. He drops on the cold bench with a heavy heart, and stares at the road waiting for a cab to pass by. He doesn’t really mind whether it takes long or not, he could stay there in the death of the night for all he cared. It would be fair.

“I’m an idiot,” he says as his rubs his temple.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Vegard does when he unlocks the door of his apartment is turn on the lights and go directly to the sink after closing the door loudly at this back. His throat feels dry and sore, just as it would feel were he shouting loudly or singing for at least two hours straight. He craves for something to drink with urgency. The soreness is quite strange, considering he hasn’t spoken much, mostly in his own mind. Can he be physically hurt by all the constant shouting he has inside his head? Is it normal? He’s been trying hard to keep his mind at ease, but it’s something that is not in his power. The ride in the taxi was plagued by an uncomfortable silence that only made him feel more guilty over snapping those meaningless words at Bård, someone who has never as much pushed him away even if Vegard had the flu. It’s been a long time since he last lied so shamelessly to his face that Vegard forgot how bad it actually feels.

He pours himself a glass of cold water and empties it in a second. Looking back, Vegard thinks the last time he lied in such manner to his was when they were young and Vegard broke the strings of Bård’s first guitar by mistake. His brother cried and demanded to know what had happened, and he used Vegard’s shoulder to cry on, unaware of the true events, the guilt eating Vegard alive. He tried to get the new strings as fast as he could, but they were in Africa and as he was but a child, he wasn’t allowed to go to the centre of the city by himself. That ended up on Vegard lying to him, saying it hadn’t been him the one who broke them, and having to wait for almost four months to buy him new ones. At the end he ended up confessing what he’d done after giving the new ones, and Bård was as forgiving as he’s always been, at least with Vegard. He understood even when Vegard was lost for words to say, and if his brother was hurt, he didn’t let it show that much. However, this time he feels his insides twisting in remorse because there is no way of confessing what he’s done. Why has he done that? The last look on Bård’s face is plastered to the back of his eyelids and it does him no good at all.

If well not telling the truth can be considered as lying, Vegard doesn’t think that keeping a secret is the same. It’s been years since he keeps the way he feels about Bård to himself, but it is for their own sakes. He doesn’t want to hurt his brother, doesn’t want to ruin the only relationship that has been a constant in his life, doesn’t want to break the bond they have shared for so many years.

He feels like an idiot for acting so impulsive and careless at his brother, but at the same time he feels there’s nothing else he could’ve done to take a cab without worrying Bård, or at least without looking considerably suspicious. Another reason to feel like a complete fool is because he is letting the words Bård said get to him, change him, open his eyes to make him see a reality that maybe was unnoticed by him for a while. How long has Bård been feeling like that? Months? Years? What if it’s something he’s bottled up for years? Vegard doesn’t want to begin to imagine if that’s true.

To the knowing eye, their relationship is not perfect, even if Vegard often prefers sugar-coating some of the flaws present, flaws that he doesn’t deny they exist yet he tries to overlook them in order to make their relationship seem to be as perfect as it _feels_ for him. Because yes, it’s true, for Vegard all of those little nasty habits are just things he has learnt how to live with throughout the years, and he knows it’s the same for Bård. They might not love those bad habits, but they tolerate them. At times there are a couple of things about Bård that really annoy him, but he’s grown to accept them as all of Bård’s features. He loves his brother with all of his annoying little habits. Nonetheless, one thing Vegard wishes he could have is the ease to speak his mind, to get the words out of his chest without feeling anxious over the outcome of whatever he has to say.

Maybe Bård has the same problem he does, bottling up the emotions for fear of losing each other, therefore he hasn’t directly said at Vegard what he really feels over their careers. Knowing his brother, it is possible that Bård thinks the truth would hurt Vegard, so he prefers to keep it to himself rather than confronting Vegard and ending it all with honest words. It wouldn’t be nice, he reckons, not at all, the words would probably shatter his already beaten heart, but there is nothing left he could do than to accept it and try to move on, even when he knows every corner of his mind will be occupied by Bård.

As he pours himself another glass of water, he feels his phone buzzing on the inside of his pants pocket, so he places the water over the bar and retrieves it to find out he has received a new message.

Bård.

“ _im home, you?_ ”

Vegard sighs a bit ashamed of himself, he’d forgotten about the text.

“ _me too. everything’s ok. have a good night,_ ” he types the reply quickly and presses send without hesitating. Bård must have the phone on his hands as they speak, because soon Vegard’s phone is buzzing again and there’s a small envelope on the screen of his phone indicating he has received a new text message.

“ _k.. goodnight v._ ”

He doesn’t even think of anything else he could say, he is not in the mood for it, so he closes it after reading. He places the phone back into his pocket before opening one of the cupboards on the kitchen. There are so many things he keeps in there that he spends more time rummaging through the cupboard in search for aspirins rather than pouring himself another glass of water and taking the pills. His head is throbbing and eyes burning, in spite of wearing the contacts all day. Vegard breathes deeply three times, in and out, in and out, in and out, and makes himself go to his room.

Vegard leaves the door open as he walks in. With swift movements he gets rid of his clothes, his basic instinct of keeping order fighting against laziness to pick all the clothes off and fold them. He leaves them on a chair before putting on a white shirt and black sweatpants heading to the bathroom. The hours spent sitting on the office chair while they were editing the clips pay off quite annoyingly, making his lower back hurt as heck as he leans down to pick a sock left by the bathroom door. He should probably get them new chairs for whenever they need to edit the upcoming clips. Vegard washes his face on the sink with cold water, immediately shivering at the contact. He closes his eyes as he splashes more water on his face, gently rubbing his cheeks and nose. With cold drops rolling down his face, he looks at his own reflection on the mirror for a moment and repeats the words he told Bård in the parking lot. ‘ _Actually get some rest_ ’? Jesus Christ, he’s a terrible liar.

He brushes his teeth two times remembering he ate some onions that night, paranoid the scent could be present on his mouth. Soon he finds himself running a hand over his face and exiting the bathroom to go back into his room and let his body collapse on the mattress. As he lies on bed, an old interview they did some years ago during the time they were sharing a flat pops in his mind. Their career was just starting, and of course people were be rather interested in the fact that they’re brothers who shared a close relationship. After having the common conversation about grasping their new life on both TV and on stage, there was a question after Bård confirmed they were living together that really left Vegard thinking after the show was over.

“ _You work together, live together, are brothers…Is this healthy?_ ”

About five or six years later, he still remembers the words, and the way they both only laughed the comments away, finding conceal in humour as they’ve done before. Was— is their relationship healthy? They have spent their lives together, and only in a rare day they don’t see each other ’s faces. It is true their job makes them to spend more together than other people would consider normal ot considerably healthy, but what is equally true is that they decide to spend their free time together as well, be it having a meal together on a restaurant or simply hanging on the other’s apartment doing nothing in particular. The only reason they decided to have two different flats a year after moving in together was because their mother kept on saying Vegard did all the chores and that if he kept on doing that, Bård would never learn how to live on his own. Which was a lie. The time they were living together they split the chores, and Bård did his perfectly, without complain. Vegard believes it’s only to prove his mother wrong that he decided to look for his own apartment when Vegard was looking for a bigger one. But in the end, they spend as much time on Bård’s apartment than on Vegard’s, leaving clothes and other possessions on the other’s flat without really caring for it. They enjoy being in each other’s company, or at least Vegard is sure he does. But is that closeness they share really healthy?

“ _To be with your brother for the rest of your life, that’s alright?_ ”

Those two questions have been archived deep on Vegard’s memories, mostly because he hasn’t known how to answer them in the pass of the years. If he had to give a honest response in the interview, he probably would’ve said that yes, at least until he grew tired of Bård. And he guesses Bård would’ve laughed and the interview would’ve continued just the same. However, now he feels right the opposite. _Bård_ is the one who is getting tired of Vegard, and he can’t really blame him for being vocal about it. Perhaps it’s been that closeness they’ve shared what is going to bring them apart.

“And it’s all my fault.”

His head is spinning and he buries his head deeper on the pillows, wishing they could help him with the headache.

 

* * *

 

When they were little, hair long that reached their shoulders, puffy, rosy cheeks and small freckles covering their tiny noses, their mother used to them tell stories at night time to help them get better sleep. Some of these stories were made up, others were well known fairy tales that the brothers often heard on TV or in books. It was always nice to listen made up stories, especially since both of them have always had vivid imaginations. During their time on Africa the task of storytelling at night fell on Vegard’s shoulders as he grew a bit older and Bård was still a kid. He didn’t mind, though, they shared a bedroom back then, and all he had to do was to cross from one side of the room to the other and sit by Bård’s side on the bed. His brother always listened to these stories with great expectation until he fell asleep, curling against Vegard’s side.

There’s one of those old stories in particular that pops up in Vegard’s mind as he lies underneath the covers of his bed, one that’s been buried down in his brain and so simple he’s surprised he remembers it at all, the story about the sun and the moon. It’s short and lacks of many of the characteristics that would make a great story for a small kid who’s obsessed with adventures and quests, though Vegard has always liked it the same. The story starts with a small statement of how the sun and the moon were always in the sky, casting their light upon the earth. People down on earth always believed that the two hated each other as the two never coincided on the sky at the same time. One day, a man climbed one of the tallest mountains and waited for the sun to set for some hours. He’d brought water and little did he care for how many hours he had to sit there, he waited and waited and watched the time go by. Before the sun hid behind the mountains, the man asked the sun to stay until the moon came up, and so he did. Both the sun and the moon were before the man that stood upon the great mountain, and he sat there, questioning out loud why did they hate each other if the two were so beautiful. Bewildered, the sun stared down at the man and asked him why was he saying such thing. The man told both heavenly bodies what common clerk said about them, and both the sun and the moon laughed in the sky.

It was turn for the moon to explain. She was full and beautiful in the sky, and her words were soft like a cold summer night breeze. Contrary to what people thought, the sun never hated the moon, and the moon never hated the sun. It was true they were different, while the sun meant day and the moon meant night, the two shun for the people on earth. Truth was, the two actually loved each other, always chasing after one another in the sky. The sun asked the man if he believed the moon’s words, and as he didn’t have any proof of this, the man shook his head no. Disappointed, the sun exchanged a quick look with the moon and finally set across the horizon. Then, when the man was about to climb down the mountain, the moon told the man to come back at the next day.

At the same hour, the man went back to the mountain, and waited for hours again. The sun was above him, and in spite of the time passing by, the sun never moved. The sky started to dim, but the sun didn’t move. The moon rose across the horizon, and with a slow movement she danced on the sky until she met the sun in the sky. It was the most beautiful thing the man had seen. In short, all the people in the world looked at the eclipse in the sky and realised how wrong they were. The sun loved the moon and the moon loved the sun, in spite of all their differences.

Before breaking apart, the moon spoke again, and her words were soft, touching everyone’s hearts from the sky. She said that one can’t exist without the other, and ever since then, people have worshipped both in the same manner. The old story leaves a warm feeling spreading across the inside of Vegard’s ribcage, the memory of a five years old Bård listening to the story clear as a summer day in his mind. It’s been such a long time it’s impressive how good he remembers it. The first time Bård heard the tale from Vegard’s mouth he wasn’t able to fall asleep just yet. Instead of asking for another story or begging Vegard to continue the current one, the younger brother looked up at him with wide bright eyes and a shy smile on his face. He poked Vegard’s chest and then his own, saying six small words.

“ _You’re the moon, I’m the sun._ ”

Those words bring back a nostalgic feeling. There’s no point in denying that when he was young, Vegard first felt annoyed because he thought Bård was referring to their physical differences rather than their personalities. But Vegard sees it better now, he gets what Bård meant when they were but chubby kids with rosy cheeks and an awful haircut. They are like the sun and the moon, both meant to shine in their own kind of ways, different yet so alike.

 _And one can’t exist without the other_.

Back then at statement made sense, but there’s a part of that story that no one ever told him, something he learned on his own as he grew older. Both the sun and the moon shine brightly in the sky, but there is a big difference between the two; the sun shines with its own light, whilst the moon only reflects the light from the sun. Taking that knowledge into real life context, does it mean Vegard steals all of Bård’s light to use it as his own?

 _No_. Or maybe. Right now rather than the moon, Vegard feels like a cloud passing by clear summer sky, that if anything, is getting in the way of the sun.

He’s lost track of the time he’s spent in bed trying to fall asleep. The sheets feel heavy on him, as if they were pinning him down to the mattress in an attempt to keep him paralyzed, every movement becomes more and more difficult. He isn’t as tired as he thought he was, and sleep decides not to come knocking at his door and leaves him with a mind crowded by thoughts. His body refuses to relax, and none of the postures he assumes is good enough for him. Vegard tried sitting up for a while, creating different patterns of music with taps over his own thighs, trying to tire his mind in order to feel the weariness he so claimed to have, but it didn’t work, so he slipped under the covers and closed his eyes in pursuit of sleep. However, all of his attempts turn out to be useless. All of his thoughts are occupied by Bård and Bård only.

Vegard opens his eyes to the darkness of the room again, and instinctively spots the digital clock casually resting on his nightstand. 3:41 AM. If he hasn’t fallen asleep after nearly five hours of trying, he guesses it’s not going to happen anytime soon.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he says to himself and pushes the duvet off his body with one hard shove. “I truly can’t.”

He sits up cross legged, stretching his arm long enough to grab his phone from the nightstand. Vegard drops his head back until it rests against the cold wall of his bedroom. He feels so stupid and pathetic for so many things that he can feel the headache making its presence once again. His fingers work slowly on the keys of his phone until all the digits of Bård’s phone number are typed on the screen. Drawing in a long breath, Vegard presses the green button and waits.

The phone rings three times before his brother picks up.

“ _Vegard?_ ” Bård questions sleepily, voice deeper than usual and a small groan followed right after he says his name. Vegard can picture him, reaching for his phone in the dark and having to check the name on the phone screen at least two times with only one eye open. “ _Is there something wrong?_ ”

There are so many things wrong that Vegard doesn’t know where to start. He is deeply, madly in love with Bård, and he’s known so for about six years now. He wants Bård to be happy and to achieve everything he’s ever dreamed of, but he doesn’t want Bård to do it without him. He wants to be by Bård’s side, but he doesn’t know if that is what his brother wants and it’s eating him alive. Is he to say all of those reasons? Any of them?

To let any of those words out is a struggle, and when he speaks the sentence comes out rushed and thoughtlessly.

“Did you mean it?”

“ _What?_ ” Bård inquires quizzically. He yawns before speaking again. “ _Vegard, what are you talking about?_ ”

The older brother’s eyelids drop. He regrets pressing the goddamn green button. The strength of getting the words out isn’t there, he feels himself stumping over his own tongue with words that are familiar to him. Also, a cold sensation burns his insides as he listens Bård’s breathing on the other side of the line. His brother is waiting for an answer and it feels as if all the words have been wiped out Vegard’s brain, leaving a blank space that he doesn’t know how to fill. Why did he think calling would be a good idea?

“ _Vegard?_ ”

There is a silence coming from both ends of the line that feels just like a heavy weight pushing him down, even heavier than the duvet he had thrown over himself. Is the silence better than a straightforward confirmation of Vegard’s suspicions? Maybe not, but at least it doesn’t hurt as much.

At least not yet.

Vegard doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what to add to make it sound less poignant than  is. He knows his voice almost broke as he spoke, so he doesn’t trust himself to add anything to what he’s asked. Sooner rather than later, there’s a sigh coming from the other line, and then his brother’s voice rings in his ear.

“ _Hold on, I’ll be there in ten_.”

Before Vegard has the chance to talk him out of it, the line goes dead.

 _Fuck_.

 

* * *

 

Still in the same position as before, Vegard has his face buried on the palms of his hands when he hears the door to his apartment being opened. It’s not much of a surprise for him, he wasn’t truly expecting a knock on the door; Bård has got a spare key to his place ever since he’s been living here, and considering the two have indirectly lived together for all of their lives it is only fair Bård has a key to his place as Vegard has one to his. Taking a guess, it’s been about seven or eight minutes since he dialled his brother’s number, Vegard hasn’t really been counting, but Bård did hurry up to get there.

“Vegard?”  
  
“I’m here,” he exclaims from the inside of his bedroom, and soon the sound Bård’s footsteps become clearer and louder with every second that passes by.

Bård walks into the room and doesn’t bother turning the lights on. Vegard’s vision has gotten used to the dimness of the room, and he can see his features without much trouble. His brother looks as if he’s just gotten out of bed on a weekday, a half asleep expression on. He wears sweatpants and a hoodie, both grey, and Vegard guesses it’s a white tank top he wears underneath. Yes, his brother was definitely asleep when Vegard dialled him up. Part of him regrets the call, anxiety and distress making their presence on his body as Bård steps forward until his knees are about to press with the bottom of his bed.

In turn, Vegard is sat crosslegged on the mattress, the black duvet and blanket both wrinkled and making a complete mess of his bed. All it takes for Bård to join him is a small gesture from Vegard, his head merely bowing down to the empty spot in front of him. Bård takes his snickers off and crawls on top of the bed, moving closer until he is able to mirror Vegard’s position, their knees accidentally bumping together as Bård settles in.

“You didn’t have to come here.”

“I did.”

“Not really…”

“What’s wrong, Vegard?” He asks with a thread of voice. “You never act like this. Talk to me.”

“It’s just—…” Vegard tries desperately to put his mind in order, take in a deep, long breath and think the words before bursting them out. “What you said has been nagging up at me.”

Bård smiles a timid smile. “I said a lot of things today, please do elaborate. ”

“Not today, Bård, in the video, you…” Vegard meets his eyes, and he feels incredibly vulnerable. How is Bård both able to make him feel so exposed yet safe at the same time? “I want to know if you truly believe it. The tarot thing, clinging onto something, _divorce_ …because if you do, I can’t blame you. It makes sense. Maybe I am keeping you from great things, Bård. ”

“What? No, Vegard, you are not,” Bård immediately says, both of his hands falling on top of Vegard’s knees. His palms feel familiarly cold, even through the fabric of his sweatpants. “Is that what you asked me over the phone? If I meant those words? Because if that’s what you were talking about, of course I didn’t mean a word of that. What I said was meant to be funny for the people watching the show back at home.”

“Didn’t sound like it, Bård. ”

“You know me, you know I would never say that for real.”

“I don’t understand, Bård, wasn’t the universe telling you to leave Ylvis?” He mumbles with a hint of bitterness in his voice.

“Really?” Bård asks, narrowing his eyes in disbelief. “It was a joke, Vegard. You know I would never mean that. I am happy being half of Ylvis, aren’t you?”

“We are not talking about me.”

Bård ignores his words. “Aren’t you happy, Vegard?”

He closes his eyes. Getting the words out is difficult, he doesn’t have the same easiness Bård does to talk about feelings. During interviews Vegard often tries to avoid the questions where he is asked about his relationship with Bård and the way he feels about him. There are so many things he wants say that it’s better if he says nothing instead, taking great care in not letting anything slip out of his mouth.

“Of course I am, Bård. ”

“And I know you are, I don’t have to ask you, I can tell,” Bård asserts with honesty, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip in a flash movement. “Can’t you tell I am just the same?”

He sighs in defeat. “I thought you were, but then there’s what you said to Ma Pantha Anjana and—”

“Forget about that for a moment, just do that and tell me if I have ever given you any proof that I am unhappy with you?”

He tries to think about times in which Bård hasn’t been at his best humour around Vegard, and somehow fails to remember one that doesn’t involve the two of them giving up on their little fights. Even since kids their childish quarrels didn’t last much, they’d be laughing loudly the second they made up.

“I guess not.”

“Then why are we even arguing about this?” Bård squeezes Vegard’s knees and looks right at him with interest, using a serene voice. Vegard does his best to breathe deeply as his eyes lock with his brother’s, trying to find calmness in his blue irises. “We haven’t had a fight in years and this is what you want to discuss? Why?”

“Because it makes sense, Bård,” Vegard finally confesses in a low voice. It is hard to look at Bård as he feels so vulnerable, but there isn’t really another place to look at.  “It makes sense. You were supposed to be the one to get famous, you were born to shine, and maybe I am truly keeping you from going big, Bård, from being the greatest artist in Norway, who knows.”

“What!?” Bård bursts out in a high-pitched voice, squeezing Vegard’s knees even harder in surprise. His loud tone gets on Vegard’s nerves, and judging by the way his brother instinctively takes a deep breath, Vegard can tell it reflects on his face. “You can’t actually believe what you’re saying,” he speaks again, now more calmed and paused than before. “You know that’s not true.”

Vegard’s heart drops. “But…”

“I am happy with you, Vegard. I’ve spent my whole life at your side, and it really surprises me to hear you actually think I’d ever get sick of you,” Bård confesses, words flowing from his mouth without problems. “What do I have to do for you to believe me?”

“Nothing, Bård, you don’t have to—”

“I don’t want you to keep thinking about what I said, it was a joke,” he interrupts. “And I know it’s hard for you to talk about this, but— talk to me, Vegard.”

“I am talking to you now, that’s why I am telling you I don’t want to keep you from success. ”

“I owe you as much as you owe me, this is a work of two persons, Vegard,” Bård says, and he sounds much mature than he’s ever done.“Why would you even think you are keeping me from success?”

He blinks.

This it’s the only time he gets to tell Bård how he feels.

Now or never.

“Because I am still with you, because I am the most selfish person in the world for wanting you at my side when you might want to be somewhere else, because no matter how old we get I am always going to feel this way about you, fuck, Bård, because I— _I_ …”

The words get stuck on his throat, and the sentence dies with a choked whisper that escapes his mouth before he realises it. He’s said to much, he’s fucked up, and he can see it in the way there’s a gleam in his brother’s eyes, the realisation of what Vegard was about to confess. He expects some words being hissed at him, maybe Bård even backing up a little, his hands leaving Vegard’s knees as if they were scalding lava. But no, Bård just holds his gaze for some seconds, and the next thing Vegard knows is that his brother’s face is merely inches away from his own, closing the distance slowly.

Vegard wants to say something, anything, ask him what is he doing, but the words die on his throat as Bård’s lips are softly pressing against his own. It feels as if the world around them freezes the moment their mouths collide, and the only ones who are able to move are them. Vegard feels his lips burning as Bård kisses him, and he is kissing back, moving his lips softly and sloppy, feeling his chest burning up as their lips fit perfectly together. Vegard’s hand falls on top of Bård’s thigh, and he doesn’t quite notice but he is squeezing it hard, the fingers digging deep over the piece of clothing. In turn, Bård’s cold hand sets firmly on the back of his neck, encouraging them to keep kissing. For a moment, he forgets about the rest of the world and gives in. Vegard loves the softness of his brother’s lips, the way Bård ’s tongue flickers over his bottom lip as they move, yet he doesn’t deepens the kiss without Vegard’s permission. He loves it, and he loves Bård, and loves the way he makes him feels, loves his lips, his hair, his hands, even his eyelashes. Christ, Vegard loves him so much, and he—

He can’t do this to him.

Ignoring what every fibre of himself feels, Vegard breaks the kiss, being left with a ragged breathing and raced heartbeat. All of the warm he felt when they collided into each other soon leaves his body, a cold now taking over his body. His fingers are like ice cubes and the pit of his stomach feels hollow.

“You aren’t running away,” Vegard speaks when be is able to recover his voice. “You aren’t pushing me away.”

“I’m not.” Bård is staring at him, and his hand moves from his nape to cup Vegard’s cheek. “And neither are you.”

“We can’t,” he warns in a whisper, and it’s more a reminder to himself. “We _can’t_ , Bård.”

“I know,” his brother replies, and Vegard sees it in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. Me too.”

“Do you truly feel that way about me?” Vegard inquires, still unable to say it out loud. He knows Bård immediately gets what he means, that he isn’t just talking about their relationship as brothers but as that little extra he’s felt for Bård for years. He cannot bring himself to speak up, but Bård understands, and that’s all that really matters. There’s a bit of frighten in what his brother might be about to say, but Vegard still stares at him patiently, breathing through his parted lips.

“Yes,” he confesses, and no word ever has sounded so breathtaking.

Vegard’s heart skips a beat. “For how long?”

“For as long as I can remember.” There is nothing but honesty in his words. “You?”

“Years…” Vegard closes his eyes and chuckles. This is all so unexpected, so sudden and perfectly imperfect. “Jesus, Bård.”

“I know. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

It’s not only a shocker to him to know Bård feels the same, it’s a wave of anxiety washing over him but also bringing a small trace of happiness with it. Vegard opens his eyelids to find Bård’s eyes still curiously staring at him. By now it’s impossible to know how to proceed. Vegard believes there’s a silent agreement behind the ‘we can’t’ he said moments from now, the two of them now standing over a line that makes them confused. To reach for his brother’s hands and pull him closer is all Vegard wants to do, wrap his arms around him and press him against his chest, tell him how sorry he is for the situation they’re currently on. Yet Vegard fights against those urges just as much as he’s fought them over the years.

“It seems quite obvious now, doesn’t it? Why we are the way we are,” Bård says, and in truth, yes, it is obvious now that Vegard gets the full picture. The realisation doesn’t right all the wrongs, but it helps them both see how blind they’ve been to the other’s acts of brotherly love throughout the years. “Why did you never tell me?”

“Because I couldn’t,” Vegard admits shortly. He isn’t about to burst out everything he feels inside, or all he’s been feeling for years now, he knows Bård understands without the need of proper words. “Why didn’t you?”

“Thought you’d be freaked out.”

“You’d never freak me out.”

“Still, confess that I’ve fallen in love with you wasn’t a topic to discuss over dinner.”

Vegard’s hearts freezes for a second before it starts beating faster. Has Bård really said that? “Have you?”

“What?”

“Fallen in love…”

His brother’s eyes widen, and his shoulders drop in defeat as he takes in a breath. “Yes.”

Everything lacks importance when Bård looks defeated, the protective instincts start to kick in the moment Vegard’s eyes lay upon him. Fuck the façade he’s tried to put on to avoid touching his brother unnecessarily, he shifts in a movement from his sitting position to kneel on the bed. The mattress sinks where his knees dig, yet he doesn’t really mind it. His arms are open wide and Bård doesn’t need to be asked twice; the younger brother falls into the other’s arms and accepts the embrace without hesitation.

“Don’t ever think I’d be freaked out by you,” Vegard whispers with his eyes shut, hoping his brother is able to hear the honesty in his words.

“Then don’t you ever think I’d leave you, that I’d give up on us,” Bård mumbles back. “We are two, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Vegard chuckles. “You are so important to me, Bård,” he says, unable to say three words that have been stuck on his throat for many years now.

“I know that,” he responds in a soft manner, and Vegard knows he is smiling.

They stay in place for a while, their arms wrapped around each other.  A voice in the back of his mind tells him that he shouldn’t indulge the closeness they are so used to, but Vegard chooses to ignore it, to focus on things that are far more important; the soft puff of air coming from Bård’s mouth, how it warms the side of his neck, the silence of the room broken by their slow heartbeat that beat at the same pace. The only sound that can be heard in the room is eventual puff of air from each other’s breathing and the common honks of cars that drive on the street across from Vegard’s flat. They might not have the healthiest relationship, but Vegard loves it, and he wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. His brother is not only important to him, his brother means the world to him, everything.

“Is everything okay now?” Bård says with a small laughter escaping his lips as they pull back. Vegard senses some melancholy on his voice, but still nods to coax his brother. Perhaps it isn’t perfect, but Vegard now knows Bard doesn’t want him gone. Perhaps he knows a little too much now. “Good. Can I go back to my place now?”

The sound of a car passing by the street across from Vegard’s flat brings him back to reality. It’s late, the night has passed by in a flash, and Vegard realises they have to keep editing in the morning. The last thing he wants is Bård driving by himself in the dead of the night— in fact, if something, he wants Bård close.

“Actually…” He reaches forward to take one of Bård’s hands in his own before his brother can stand from the bed. “Stay?”

Bård’s eyes find his own, and he seems to be taken aback from the proposal. Perhaps he is asking for too much, the revelation is still a shock for the two of them and maybe Bård needs some time to himself, to think about what they’ve just said. Nevertheless, Vegard is selfish, and he doesn’t want to have time to think about what happened. He knows those words will be on his mind for weeks anyway, yet he feels more relieved than stressed at the moment. Bård’s blue eyes flick from Vegard to the vacant spot next to him on the bed. It’s a double bed, a bed they’ve already shared in multiple occasions, but maybe now his brother might think there will be some kind of awkwardness between them, one that has never been there before.

“I mean, you’re wearing your pyjamas already and it’s late…” Vegard offers, squeezing his hand. He doesn’t want him to feel any awkwardness, so he behaves as he is used to— as _they_ are used to. A small and shy grin draws on Vegard’s face, one that he is hoping Bard can see as a sign that says everything is okay. “You can stay if you want to.”

For a brief moment Bård stares at the open door, but his gaze is back on Vegard quickly. “Uh, do you want me to take the couch, now that we…” The question dies on his lips, but Vegard is able to read all the missing words on the blue irises of his eyes. Bård squeezes his hand back, and bits his lower lip for a fraction of second, but it doesn’t come unnoticed by Vegard. “We could do that, because I don’t know if you are comfortable with me in here…”

“Hey, don’t be silly,” Vegard says and pulls him playfully by his hand, their palms pressing together and fingers twined. “You know that’d never be a problem for me, never… though I do understand if you don’t want to sleep with me, but if someone is taking the couch that should be me.”

“Please, you know where I want to be.” The words are still lingering on the air when Bård lets himself fall frontwards to land on top of Vegard, pinning the older brother to the mattress with the weight of his own body. Their hands are still locked together as Bard adjusts himself on top of Vegard “And that’s here, with you.”

A day ago Vegard would’ve interpreted those words as a simple proof of how close their relationship is, his little brother expressing out loud how much he likes to be with his big brother. However, now that Vegard knows he isn’t the only one who has feelings for the other, he is able to read into Bård’s words better than before. He knows what Bård means with those words, and it both amuses and scares him that he feels just the same. There is nowhere he’d rather be than there, with Bård pinning him to the bed and their limbs tangling together. He looks at Bård, at how beautiful he looks in the darkness, a sight that only Vegard is able to have. He wants to lean in again, brush their lips together and ask Bård for permission to give him a proper kiss, one in which he can put all he feels in it, one to show Bård how much he’s longed for him.

But Vegard can’t, he can’t do that to Bård even if the two of them want the same. It’s a boundary that’s better left untouched. He values his relationship with Bård too much, so he can’t risk it. Instead of giving in to his desires, Vegard’s free hand reaches forward to brush a golden lock of hair that falls on Bård’s face and tug it behind his ear, smiling affectionately at his brother. Bård smiles back,and then Vegard leads his hand down to circle his arm around his brother’s waist, easily making the two of them roll over to his sides. Bård ends up settling in which Vegard often calls his side of bed, or what would be better called as the side he sleeps on when he is alone. It doesn’t really matter, though, he is used to taking the right side whenever his brother sleeps over. When they stay in Bård’s apartment, things tend to be a little bit different, considering Bård’s bed is pushed against a wall. In that case Bård takes the spot closer to the wall, allowing Vegard to sleep curled beside him on the left side of the bed, just as when they were kids. Perhaps some things never change.

Vegard allows Bard to settle in first, and then he reaches for the duvet at their feet and throws it over both of their bodies before letting his head fall back on the pillows. It feels so natural for them to bundle up around each other, for Bård to use Vegard’s upper arm as his pillowcase, for Vegard to throw his other arm over his brother’s side, allowing his hand to settle on the small of his back. Bård’s breathing feels warm as it crashes against Vegard’s neck, and he firmly believes there’s no other place that’s ever felt more like home than his brother’s side.

“Vegard?” Bård mumbles softly, and he flexes the arm that Bård uses as pillow so his hand can find its way to his brother’s hair. He brushes it gingerly, knowing Bård loves the motion.

“Hmm?”

“This doesn’t change anything…” His voice is soft and full of wonder, and it only encourages Vegard to keep him as close as possible. “Does it?”

“It won’t change a thing if you don’t want it to.”

“That’s good.”

“I know.” Vegard doubts his own words, yet he wants to believe in them for as long as he can. “Let’s try to sleep now, it’s late.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight, Bård.”

“Night.”

They stay in silence for a moment, Vegard’s fingers playing with the strands of soft hair that are so familiar for him. Should it feel different now that he knows Bård reciprocates the feelings he’s kept to himself for years now? Should they stop behaving the way they do for their own sakes, even if it hurts? The last thing Vegard wants is to lose Bård, he’d probably go mad if it ever happens, and now he is afraid that their bond will bend until it breaks if their feelings towards each other don’t disappear. He’s been waiting for them to be gone for a long time now, and if something they have grown deeper, the love he feels for his brother could light up the whole universe. Vegard fears that if his brother feels the same, they’ll eventually be dragged together again, and he can’t do that, he can’t let them both be doomed. If one of them has to bear with the cross for the other to be happy, Vegard is more than willing to do so without hesitation.

“You are still awake,” Bård speaks, and looks up from Vegard’s arm. He doesn’t stop caressing his scalp, feeling comfort on the softness underneath his fingertips.

“And so are you,” Vegard retorts.

“We probably should sleep, the sun is gonna be up soon.”

For a moment he tears his gaze off his brother’s features to look at the window at his back. If well it isn’t sunny outside, he can tell by the lack of darkness that the dawn is about to break soon.  It suddenly comes to his mind that whenever he’s been up to see the sun rising from the east Bård has been with him. There is something about watching the sky change its colours with the person you love the most that makes it feel unique even if it happens daily, as if the sky tainted its length of colours that were different every day. Vegard feels happy to be there with Bård, even if they would only notice the break of dawn by the change of the lightning of the room.

“Now that you mention the sun, do you want to hear a story?”

“A story?” Bård echoes with a small giggle. “I am not five years old anymore, you know.”

“But you’re still my little brother.”

The smile on Bård’s face morphs into a sad one, and Vegard guesses he mirrors it quite the same.

“Tell me a story,” Bård speaks up with a small voice, placing his head on Vegard’s arm again. He nuzzles closer to him, and his fingers keep playing with the loosen and long strands of hair. “And make it good.”

Vegard knows his brother will remember the story the minute he mentions the two main characters of the child’s story, yet he doesn’t truly mind it. The possibilities of falling asleep soon are close to none, and he can tell Bård knows this. He feels Bård snuggling closer, his head back on nestling on the crook of Vegard’s neck and tangling his legs with Vegard’s in a smooth motion.

“Okay, this is the story of the sun and the moon…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The Norges Herligste episode referenced in this chapter can be found [in here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ON8uvPXMXYw). And the interview Vegard makes a reference to is [this one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IbsdtowYNOg).
> 
> Thanks a lot for reading!


	5. .v

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope everyone is doing okay since the last time I uploaded. There's a small part with explicit sex content in this chapter, so please have that in mind as a cw (✿◠‿◠). 
> 
> Usual thanks and love to [Valentina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/take_a_bow06/) for being an incredible beta and also [Abigail](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kolaflor/) for reading the smut and helping me out with some ideas.

_2011_

 

“Are you ready?”

“I am, but we have to wait for Bård,” the curly haired man says before he lets the plastic glass he used to drink some water slip to the floor.

Vegard sits down on the chair that stands in the middle of the stage and faces the lady that’s come to interview him and his brother that day. She gives him a brief nod before turning her attention back to the notepad on her lap. Her brown lipstick is what catches Vegard’s attention the most. It’s easy to focus on her face rather than her hair (which is common for him) because she carries a high ponytail that makes her long and straight hair fall down her back and expose more of her face. Which is nice, she has a pretty face to gaze upon. Fair skin, thick but stylised eyebrows, pointy nose and some small freckles that her make-up fails to hide. She wears a nice beige blouse under a thin black sweater that matches her pants, high heels that makes her taller than Vegard. He offers her one of his kindest smiles, tapping his fingers over his thigh and looks over the lady’s shoulder to search for his brother’s face.

They’ve been practising on this number for a while now, and Vegard can’t deny he might as well would’ve preferred to keep on rehearsing for what’s left of the afternoon and have interview about the upcoming play only after practising enough. It’s fine, though, he is okay with interviews and often is the one who takes the cue to connect with whomever the interviewer might be and reply to any of the questions they might have. The brothers often don’t need to think much before saying what’s on their mind, and if they ever struggle with any question they have no problem whatsoever in letting the other finish the sentence. They already know what’s in the other’s mind, anyway.

A couple of minutes ago his brother excused himself and left them alone on stage because he claimed he needed to put a shirt on before doing the interview. He’s down to the leotard legging he uses for this number, not even bothering to carry a shirt around while he practices anymore. During the first practices Bård used to wear a long-sleeved shirt when he noticed the amount of painful burns present on his skin from the silks. Bård went through a lot of pain the first weeks of training, and Vegard was always there to help him apply ointment on the burnt areas. However, Bård has now improved a lot, only getting considerably lesser skin burns from occasional and unintentional slips. On the other hand, Vegard doesn’t bother changing his own clothes, somewhat comfortable with his white shirt and plain dark jeans. The interview isn’t going to be on TV anyway, there are no cameras around, so Vegard doesn’t really care much about his looks, he knows his hair is in place and that is enough.

It’s merely over five minutes later when he finally catches a glimpse of his brother’s blond hair emerging from behind a curtain. His eyes set back on the lady in front of him, her legs crossed and now there’s a black recorder on top of the notepad on her lap. Bård wears wearing a black shirt over his white leotards, the same one he somehow keeps forgetting to bring home whenever they are done with the rehearsals. She smiles at Vegard when they make eye contact, and he nods briefly as he hears Bård’s footsteps on the wooden stage echoing through the place as he gets closer. Apparently he’s still barefoot, which means they’re still to practice after the interviewer does what she’s there for.

“Hey! And where is my chair?” Bård immediately demands to know, using an annoying high pitched voice.

Both Vegard and the interviewer shrug at the same time to answer Bård’s question, and it only makes the younger brother huff shortly in reply. The lady brought her own stool from backstage to do the interview, whilst Vegard simply kept the same black chair he uses to play the cello for the number they are rehearsing. Crossing his arms over his chest, Vegard’s gaze drops to the floor as he tries to suppress a grin from forming on his face. Bård truly enjoys reaffirming his position as annoying younger brother whenever he wants to, and if it surely never fails to create an awkward atmosphere between the people at their surroundings, it doesn’t feel awkward for Vegard. Rather than that, he finds it amusing.

“Very well, then,” Bård blurts out and takes a decisive step forward to stand in front of Vegard. Without any kind of verbal warning, only a questionable look from the younger brother as an ambiguous clue on he’s about to do something, he lowers himself and carelessly drops onto Vegard’s lap. “I have found a better chair now.”

The lady can’t suppress the giggles as she watches them sitting across from her. “Are you comfortable, Bård?”

“Me?” Bård asks back with humour, pressing himself harder onto Vegard’s lap as if he were an actual chair. “Very much. My brother has great big thighs, very comfortable indeed.”

Vegard laughs as he wraps his arms around Bård’s waist to complement his brother’s childish actions. It doesn’t take him long to feel his cheeks burning up in embarrassment at the silly comment. He knows his thighs are big compared to Bård’s, it isn’t a secret, but he’s never heard his brother bringing up that fact before. In her own way, the freckled interviewer is rather amused at their behaviour than showing any sign of nuisance, which makes Vegard feel easier and keep on with the act rather than making Bård look for his own chair.

“Has someone ever pointed out that you act like a couple?” She inquires with curiosity, still carrying a wide, full-teeth smile on her face.

“Oh, yeah, all the time,” Bård says with ease. “The interviewers like to talk about our relationship quite a lot, don’t they, _Vegard dear_?”

Vegard takes the cue to tighten his arms around Bård’s waist. Acting like a couple, alright, he can fake that too. “Oh, yeah, _babe_ , they sure love to talk about us,” he continues using excessive modulation on each word. “Always asking whether we love or hate each other.”

“They like to play dumb, as if they didn’t know the answer already.”

“Yeah.”

The interviewer laughs loudly at the small act they’ve put for her, and somehow Vegard wishes it wasn’t just an act. “You guys are hilarious. What about I make you the first question?”

“Oh, wasn’t that the first one?”

“Actually, the question about your relationship is the third one, but we’ll move to that one later,” she admits nicely. “Shall we begin?”

Vegard notices the way her thumb hovers the recording button awaiting for an answer. He is about to reply when Bård shifts a little on top of him and presses himself harder onto Vegard’s lap. His eyes immediately search for the lady’s face, yet she is opening the notebook and not really paying attention to them. That’s uncalled for, not a thing his brother is doing for the interviewer to laugh about. For a brief moment Vegard wishes he could be able to take a look at his brother’s face in search for some kind of clue in the depth of his eyes. Was he doing it to tease Vegard or was he actually making himself more comfortable? Vegard can’t quite tell, so he makes sure to tighten his arms around his brother in reply.

“Okay, the first question is regarding your newest play, _Ylvis 4_ …”

Her voice is smooth and paused, very suited for an interview, but Vegard’s mind is somewhere else as she asks her question. It’s the typical question about being back on stage with new material, so Vegard is happy to hear Bård takes the lead to speak up, tugging a strand of hair behind his ear from time to time. Out of mere politeness, Vegard tries to pay attention to his brother’s words but somehow his brain decides to remind him that with the gymnastics leggings his brother wears, the curve Vegard feels pressed on his lap is the curve of Bård’s ass. He feels himself blushing at the crude awareness.

It’s so inappropriate he starts to feel bad for having such thoughts with the interviewer sitting across from them. They have gotten used to some kind of silent flirtation in the most uncanny situations, mostly being the younger brother the one who starts it. They have never verbally acknowledged what they do, but Vegard guesses it’s better that way. And he doesn’t truly find any problem with it, at least for as long as they don’t do anything unbrotherly. Because brothers tend to tease each other quite a lot, don’t they? Perhaps not in the same semi-sexual way Vegard and Bard find amusing to do, but it’s somewhat a natural behaviour.

Bringing himself back to the situation they’re on and how the lady would be the only one to notice what Bård is doing, Vegard moves a leg as if to tell him to stop, yet the small giggle that escapes from his brother’s lips doesn’t go unnoticed by Vegard. He knows it isn’t due to the context of the conversation he keeps with the interviewer, and it only makes him feel more embarrassed.

 _Bård, you little shit_.

“And what about you, Vegard?” The female interviewer inquires, grinning kindly at him, her other hand holds a pen, and she is ready to scribble down some notes on what he is about to say. “What do you think about being back on theatres? Are you happy to work with Bård again?”

Vegard silently thanks the lady for repeating the question. He quickly tries to gather around some words on his mind to make sentences as he attempts to overlook the way Bård feels so good pressed against him.

“Yes, of course I am,” he promptly avows. “It isn’t as if we’ve actually stopped working together. The time we are not on stage or on TV we also spend it together on shaping some of our other ideas into more material. Some are good, some are brilliantly good, and some are just not good enough to show to the audience, but we still keep them in mind.”

“We have the same kind of humour,” Bård explains, “so there might be things that are not funny for other people but that we often find hilarious ourselves.”

“And that’s good because we spend most of our time together, so it is important that we are on sync, both for the sake of our work and to keep a good relationship, ” Vegard finishes the sentence with a small nod.

The interviewer seems to be pleased with the answer, because she immediately scribbles down some of their words on the notebook and keeps a confident look on her face. Vegard laces his fingers together, arms still looped around his brother’s waist. There are things that are so easy for him to admit during interviews than in the confinements of a room where he and Bård would be alone. It’s weird, just as if he gained a rush of confidence from knowing Bård doesn’t have to reply to his words, only hear what he has to say.

“Which leads us to our final question, guys.” She sits straight for a moment, only to cross her other leg on top of the other. “We know you guys don’t like to talk about your relationship very much, but I wonder how is it that you have been together for almost twelve years? Do you ever want to strangle each other by now?”

“I don’t know if I would be able to strangle Vegard, he is stronger than me. Maybe I’d use poison…”

“Hey!” Vegard exclaims. “That is a stupid way of killing someone.”

Bård looks over his shoulder and their eyes meet. “Yeah? How would you kill me then, mister assassin?”

“With a knife, probably,” Vegard says with a shrug. “I would probably stab you and wait for you to die. Then I’ll probably get rid of your body.”

“And where?”

“In a place that only you’d know.”

“Clever, but I believe that isn’t going to work now that you’ve confessed it on an interview.”

Vegard quirks an eyebrow. “And who’s said I want to kill you?”

“So you don’t?” The interviewer’s voice drags their attention back to her like silver to a magnet. Vegard finds laughter lines on her face, and can’t avoid a small grin from forming on his face.

“Of course not,” he admits with ease. “If something, Bård is the one who would like to kill me. I can’t believe how he hasn’t grown tired of me by now.”

“Because you are a good chair,” Bård confesses as if it were the best excuse he could give. Nonetheless, he gives a light chuckle before taking a brief look over his shoulder once more. “And a good brother.”

“Fair enough,” he offers as he moves his leg again, this time hitting the side of Bård’s thigh and being able to catch the giggle coming from Bård’s lips.

“Alright guys, that’s perfect,” the female voice announces with a final chuckle and Vegard’s eyes quickly drift back to her, noticing how she stops the recorder with a press on the red button. “Thank you so much for this small interview and I hope I didn’t take much of your time.”

She stands from the stool, holding the notepad and recorder in one hand and stretching her other arm at Bård. Both brothers take the cue it’s time to stand up, so Vegard retrieves his lock from Bård’s waist and allows him to get up first to shake her hand. The warmness of his brother’s body heaving him down is amiss, but before having too much time to think about it Vegard also stands up and offers her his hand, giving her a formal and firm handshake. She smiles briefly at the two of them before turning around and picking up her stool. Vegard is about to offer to carry it for her, but she gives him a look that says she can take care of it. With nothing left to add, Vegard sees her disappearing behind the curtain.

It’s going to make a good interview, he reflects. People usually love whenever the brothers  small samples of their brotherly relationship, and if there’s something they like even more is comedy, so they are going to definitely love that one in particular. He trust the interviewer to put the important bits and leave out other facts. Such as Bård sitting on my lap, Vegard thinks to himself as his eyes trail to his the shape of his brother’s bottoms. Bård turns around just in time to catch him staring, and Vegard holds his gaze for a brief moment before clearing his throat and looking away.

“So,” he says, feeling his cheek starting to burn. “Shall we continue?”

Rather than commenting on the glance he gave him, Bård nods. “Yes. Half an hour more of rehearsing and we’ll call it a day.”

And Vegard nods too, but his eyes are slowly drawn back to his brother just in time to the see the golden haired man getting rid of the shirt and tossing it away to the back of the stage. Vegard has never been the one to work in messy places, and Bård knows that, but he cannot bring himself to move past his brother to pick it up. Instead, he slowly makes his way back to the chair and sits, picking up the cello from the ground.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Vegard says, and in a blink of an eye he’s ready to focus on the cello and the cello only.

 

* * *

 

The film credits roll on the television screen as Vegard finally gets the moment to stretch on the couch like a lazy cat, bringing himself back to reality. Over the table there are two mugs with coffee stains on the inside and a big empty bag of crisps that Bård finished in less than fifteen minutes since the movie started. Vegard wishes he could smack his brother for leaving some crumbs of crisps all over the table when he threw the empty bag over it, but they’re at Bård’s place, after all, so he lets it pass, knowing he’ll be the one to clean it later. Plus, his brother was too amused devouring the crisps to ruin his mood by telling him to clean up the mess.

Ever since Bård has gotten into learning aerial silks, he’s had to give up on some of the junk food he actually likes —which actually aren’t much, though— for the sake of losing some weight and gaining major strength. His brother has truly focused on learning the art, deciding to go to the gym five times per week and jog every day after he’s woken up. However, Vegard believes the hardest thing he’s had to do has been renouncing to sweets. It’s been quite a journey to watch, considering all Vegard’s had to do is learn how to play the cello, and music comes natural for him. In spite of that, he’s also decided to join Bård in his newest nutritional habits, only so his brother wouldn’t feel entire alone every time the rest of the crew decided to eat pizza and Bård had to immediately turn down the offer. It’s good, though, he knows his brother would do the same for him were the situations reversed.

Vegard rubs his eyes after stretching his back muscles, being rather careful with the contact lenses. Quite frankly, he has no idea how the fuck he ended up watching Mulan for the hundredth time, but he suspects it might have something to do with Bård placing the remote control out of his reach and throwing his head over Vegard’s lap to use it as pillow. Should they call that an habit considering how often they do that? Vegard doesn’t know, but they’re used to using each other’s laps to rest on —Bård commonly being the one lying down—, and Vegard truly doesn’t mind at all. His hand always falls on the fluffy mass of his brother’s hair and he strokes it softly, sometimes even without noticing. It’s good, and it helps the two of them to relax.

Now that the movie is over and ads are currently playing on the screen, the brothers don’t even bother to change the channel. Vegard knows that at some point during the movie he could’ve easily moved forward to retrieve the remote control from the table and surf through channels until they found something more exciting to watch, but that’d mean to make Bård’s head sink into the couch intentionally, and Vegard didn’t have the heart to do that. Oh, clever Bård, always taking advantage of Vegard’s good will.

“Enough television for a day,” the curly haired man announces, allowing a tired yawn escape his mouth. “I don’t care if they’re showing _The Meaning of Life_ next, I’m not up for watching anything else.”

“You’re getting rusty,” his brother replies. “We used to watch four movies in a row.”

“Hmm, but we were way younger then. I’m a bit tired.”

“Oh, come on, Vegard!” Bård digs his elbow on Vegard’s thigh as he speaks. “I remember we did a marathon of some movies when I was twenty five, that wasn’t even five years ago. And you’re _thirty-one_ now, not sixty.”

“Still growing older with every breath I take…”

“Stop it,” Bård demands, elbowing him again. “You’re not that old.”

Vegard chuckles, retrieving his hand from Bård’s locks of hair. “Okay, fine, you win, but I’m still not watching another movie.”

“Fair enough,” Bård replies.

It’s funny how ever since Vegard turned thirty he has been the one joking about his age rather than being the other way round. Not that he truly feels like an old grandpa, on the contrary; he’s always been the most energetic out of the two of them, and it’s something that isn’t changing anytime soon. Yet he enjoys seeing some of Bård’s funny reactions to his words. He can’t forget Bård’s comment about his age the day he turned thirty, when his brother pulled him into a warm hug once Vegard walked into the living room and softly whispered _‘you’re just aging like a fine wine, aren’t you?’_ into his ear, which made him bark back a laughter and hide how those words took his breath away. Why does Bård have to come up with that kind of comments that made his heart skip a beat?

Vegard doesn’t know, but he doesn’t want any of those moments to stop either.

He finds himself idly staring at the television screen with a grin plastered on his face when his brother’s voice brings him back to the living room.

“Do you remember the song we wrote for _Ylvis III_?” Bård asks, beginning to sit up on the couch.

He immediately turns in his direction, eyes setting on his features. His blond hair looks so messy now that he straightens himself on the couch; Bård took a shower minutes before watching the movie and now his hair has dried with a strange curve that’s thanks to Vegard’s thigh being pressed to his hair while wet. And added to that, the strands of hair are pointing at every direction, as if the younger man had been rolling on the bed. It’s surely something hilarious to gaze upon, though.

“We wrote more than one song for Ylvis III.”

“Oh, come on. _I can be hero…_ ” Bård sings with a raspy voice. Whenever he keeps quiet for too long, Bård ends up getting a voice deeper than his usual, and Vegard always finds it rather amusing, especially while singing. Also, he suspects his brother remembered the song halfway throughout the movie and has waited until the movie is over to bring it up. “ _…on a mission to find the band…_ ”

“ _Time to meet the Government, for once we need to please…_ ” Vegard continues the song singing the wrong lyrics on purpose, winking playfully as Bård rolls his eyes. “ _…I was blind but now I see the hero that is me._ ”

“Yeah, that’s the one I’m talking about.” There’s a gleam in Bård’s eyes that gives away the sentiment he is trying to hide. He must be remembering all the fun they had with _Ylvis III_ , and the easy way in which they wrote most of the songs. It was a completely different experience, which can’t be compared to the making of their newest play. Both are good and incredibly funny —or at least they consider it to be funny— and they believe in their work, so Vegard tells himself there is nothing to worry for in the depth of Bård’s eyes, just an understanding longing for stepping into a stage on a sold-out night. “That one was amazing, wasn’t it?” The younger brother comments nostalgically. “And we still need a song for one of the final acts. We should probably write one just as good as that one.”

“And we will, Bård,” he assures him, reaching over to pat his shoulder a couple of times. “We just have to make sure we don’t rip off a Disney’s song this time,” he tries to joke.

“We won’t,” his brother says with a small grin.

“Hey,” Vegard calls after him and immediately reaches over to place his hand on Bård’s nape, holding his gaze as he speaks. “I mean it, we are going to be awesome.”

“Just as always?”

Vegard smiles fondly. “Just as always.”

And he means those words. They’re ten days away from the première of their play, and after so many months of hard working Vegard is more than sure is going to be a success. He does get why Bård must be slightly worried, it’s the usual nerves you get from anticipation, yet he knows those nerves will immediately go away the moment they’re about to go on scene. The stage gives them so much security, almost feeling at home whenever they stand in there. And, of course, being next to each other always helps. Whenever Vegard struggles to remember a line, all he has to do is meet his brother’s blue eyes and the words come flowing naturally back at him.

“I think we should probably work on that song rather than practising so much the aerial silks act. My back is freaking killing me,” Bård whines as he drops his head back on the couch. “And my shoulders too.”

“I bet,” he chuckles. “You were hanging from those sheets for almost four hours today.”

Bård shrugs, and Vegard has troubles tearing his gaze off Bård’s exposed neck. “Practice makes perfect.”

“Want a backrub?” He offers sympathetically as he reaches to run his fingers through his brother’s hair. It’s soft under his fingertips, and in spite of having brushed it during most of the movie, Vegard still enjoys the contact. “I clearly am not a masseur, but I can try.”

“Yes,” he replies instantly, leaving no room for hesitation. “I have no lotion, though.” He turns his head slightly to the right allowing his blue eyes to set on Vegard, and they are shining now with a different spark. Vegard withdraws his hand from his brother’s hair and brings it to his own lap, clasping both hands together. “Would you truly do that for me?”

He nods. _Is there anything I wouldn’t do for you?_ No. And he doesn’t need to say it out loud, Bård already knows the answer, Vegard can tell for the way he smiles even before asking. “You need to lay on your chest, though. ”

“Yeah, just let me…”

Bård straightens himself on the couch to stretch his arms up in the air before he jumps to his feet. Vegard thinks his brother is about to do what he’s told him to, but rather than that, Bård’s hands set on the collar of his shirt and he easily gets rid of both of layers of clothes, the long sleeved jersey he’s been carrying on ever since they left the theatre and the black t-shirt he carries underneath. Seeing his brother shirtless has become so common for Vegard in the last of months, even more often now than when they were kids, yet his eyes always seem to find the known body unquestionably interesting, gaze often shifting from one of his high shoulders to the other and continuing downwards to his naked chest and even daring to travel below. The hipbones must be one of Vegard’s favourite attributes of his brother’s physique, sharp and outlined, encouraging to follow the lines down to a place hidden by grey sweatpants. He sighs in frustration.

Vegard knows his brother notices the way he looks at him, yet he’s never comment on it nor has asked him to stop either.

Before he can keep on appreciating the wonders of Bård’s body, the younger brother drops back on the couch and motions Vegard to stand up. He does, and he can’t stop himself from staring at his brother as he falls over the cushions of the couch and rolls around just so he’s laying on his stomach. All of the sudden Vegard is happy to have helped him pick up that new couch; it is larger enough for Bård to fit in without needing to let his long and slender legs hang from the armrest. Plus, the couch is also incredibly comfortable.

“I’m ready now,” Bård tells him with a contented voice, clearly in awe of receiving the massage.

He shakes his head at his brother’s eagerness. Is Bård so enthusiastic because his back is actually sore or because he wants Vegard to give him the massage? It’s impossible to know, especially now that Bård rests his chin on top of his crossed arms. He tries to take a look at his face, but his eyes are closed, and Vegard takes that as a sign to get back on the couch, settling his right knee on the border of the couch close to Bård’s thigh and proceeding to throw his other leg over so it rests between his brother’s body and the back of the couch.

It’s been so long since Vegard gave his brother a massage, about five years or so, he reckons, after a night in which Bård decided to sleep in the car because he locked himself out of his apartment, also leaving the keys to Vegard’s apartment inside. Honestly, Vegard didn’t want to laugh about it when he met him in the morning, but his face was similar to a zombie’s. His brother walked with an arched back and dragging his feet, a hand on his lower back that rubbed the spot constantly as he complained about the pain. Vegard sure scolded him for not coming into his apartment instead, assuring Bård he wouldn’t have minded waking up to open the door. But he offered for giving Bård a massage, and his brother didn’t hesitate. Afterwards, he’d called Vegard  saint and claimed he felt much better, for what Vegard felt really proud of.

Creating friction, he rubs his hands together for a moment until they get warmer before finally working on Bård’s back. His fingers knead the knots with patience, starting with the muscles of his shoulders, slowly moving down to circle his shoulder blades with his thumbs. He might not be very experienced, but Vegard sure knows how to apply the right pressure into the knots on his brother’s back. Bård is considerably more sensitive to pain than Vegard, so he works his fingers with precise and utter care. He isn’t aggressively harsh but not entirely gentle either. Knowing how much pain Bård can take is something that can’t be taught, just Vegard’s vast knowledge on his brother’s body.

His callous hands slowly make their way to the middle of Bård’s back, taking the liberty to run his fingertips across his brother’s shoulder blades and below, being able to feel the goosebumps littering his skin. He smiles, knowing Bård is enjoying it. Vegard works on the middle of his back, applying pressure on the spot with his thumbs. The action gets an immediate response from his brother, who moans softly as Vegard repeats the motion. He questions for a small second whether to move downwards or continue there, and as if to answer his unspoken question, Bård speaks.

“Oh my God,” he grunts loudly, “yes, _right there_.”

“Good?”

“Hell, Vegard…” Bård seems to be breathless as he bursts the words, yet another groan escapes his lips before he speaks again. “More than good.”

Has his brother always sounded so sensual? Vegard feels his breath getting caught on his throat as he presses his thumbs into the same area again and Bård moans, and the sound seems to have an effect on Vegard. He keeps on digging his thumbs with the right amount of pressure on the spot. Perhaps Bård has always been so vocal, but it’s only now that Vegard realises it. He’s not even that good with massages, he’s aware of that, but every time he rubs his fingers on that tense spot, his brother gives a grunt that makes Vegard heat up involuntarily. Hell, it isn’t until then that he realises he’s pressing himself against Bård’s ass, and the realisation doesn’t help him much.  

His hands trail a bit down until they set on the hollow of his spine, applying a bit more of strength in that place. Maybe if he kneads another muscle his brother will be able to filter some of the sounds —not that Vegard would ever want him to stop—. A part of him frightens from what reaction might his body have. Contrary to what he expected, Bård moans again, and this time it’s louder and lasts a bit longer than before, and fuck— _it’s hot as hell_.

He continues working on Bård’s back as he moves his fingers up his spine, and Vegard vehemently hopes Bård doesn’t feel he is hardening.

The thing that does it for Vegard are the sounds coming from his brother’s mouth, soft, paused moans every time Vegard’s fingers knead a tense spot on his back. Every fibre of his body tells him it’s wrong, but the more he pays attention to the pleased grunts coming from Bård, the more sexy he finds it. And it’s not only that, it’s also the position they find themselves into. Vegard cannot help it, he feels the line of Bård’s bottoms pressing against his crotch every time he lowers a little to work better on the muscles on his upper back. Vegard tries to push away the shameful thoughts and the provoking sounds coming from his brother underneath him, but he can’t.

His eyes are closed and hands now back on working on one of Bård’s shoulder blades when he feels his brother's body nimbly shifting under him. Before he even has the chance to open his eyes, Vegard feels his brother prompting himself up, and now Vegard is practically pressing his crotch against Bård’s. His brother’s hands soon find the neck of his shirt and with a slow tug he brings him closer. It’s only then when Vegard open his eyes, and all he can see are his own desires reflected on his brother’s pretty face.

It all happens in the blink of an eye. Vegard leans in at the same moment Bård moves a bit upward, and with the intensity of a burning sun, their lips finally meet.

They feel so familiar against his own. yet again like a foreign land Vegard is more than willing to discover, so warm but also unknown. He kisses Bård hungrily, letting him know how much he’s been longing for this, how many times he’s been on the verge of grabbing the back of his brother’s neck and bringing their lips together. It’s a something Vegard has to struggle with daily, and it only gets harder and harder to resist when he knows Bård feels the same. Nevertheless, Bård is there now, and Vegard’s hands move from Bård’s chest to his shoulders to support himself even better. He moans into the kiss as he feels Bård kissing back with the same intensity. His brother doesn’t ask for permission to slide his tongue into his mouth, he just goes for it and takes the lead of the kiss, making Vegard harder with every touch.

There is absolutely no room for politeness when Bård is deepening the kiss and pressing their hips even tighter at the same time. Whilst Vegard wears dark jeans, Bård is down to those grey sweatpants he always carries around, and it takes him no time to feels Bård’s cock pressing against the inside of his thigh as they kiss, it only encourages him to deepen the kiss and establish a battle for power that Bård triumphally takes over.

The kiss so hot and hungry that when they have to break apart in order to breathe they keep the distance the same. Vegard takes Bård’s lower lip between his teeth and nips at it, gaining a moan from his brother. It might be one of the hottest sounds he’s ever heard. Bård takes the cue to search for Vegard’s lips again, and soon they are kissing just as hungrily and eagerly. One of Vegard’s hands leaves its hold of Bård’s shoulders to grab the back of his brother’s neck, tugging softly at the hair as he lets their tongues move together again.

His mind only has focus think about Bård, in that moment nothing else is as important. It’s when both of Bård’s hands move from Vegard’s thighs to grab his ass that Vegard has to break the kiss in order to give a loud moan. Bård giggles at the response, and does it again, this time buckling his hips and making their crotches press harder together. Jesus fuck, Bård is driving him crazy. Vegard soon is looking for his brother’s lips again, and it’s no surprise to find him smiling as their mouths crash together. Vegard only feels his cock growing harder as Bård eagerly squeezes his buttcheeks, and he can hardly control himself then, grinding against Bård’s groin as he allows Bård to kiss him.

And Vegard wants to reach down Bård’s sweatpants and unzip his own pants in order to take them both in hand, he wants to listen to the sweetest sounds coming from his brother’s lips again, he wants to mark his neck, to taste him, to get to know him in ways only a lover could.

He wants to make Bård feel as good as no one has ever made him feel, and—

And that’s exactly why Vegard makes himself stop.

He quickly realises his hand is about to get into Bård’s sweatpants and immediately withdraws, also forcing himself to break away from the kiss. Vegard snaps his eyes open. Getting air into his lungs is hard, and he can tell Bård is as breathless as him, his face flushed of a bright red and pupils so blown the blue irises are barely visible. Vegard can still feel his hardness against the inside of his thigh, and he has to bit his cheek out of mere frustration.

“Jesus, Bård…”

“What’s wrong?” Bård asks as he moves his hands from Vegard’s buttcheeks to set loosely over his hips, and he sounds so beaten down that Vegard feels guilty for giving in in the first place.

“We can’t— you know we can’t do this.”

“No, Vegard.” Bård’s eyes seem to pierce through his skin, and Vegard feels incredibly vulnerable under his brother’s gaze. “We _shouldn’t_ do this, but we can.”

Vegard exhales deeply as he lets his eyelids drops. He’s still practically sat on top of Bård’s lap, and he knows he should feel bad when Bård’s hard cock brushes his inner thigh, but it does right the opposite, sending a shiver down Vegard’s spine and making his own cock twitch. He should probably lift himself up, but it’s so hard to leave what you want the most in order to follow what any other sane person would do. _Am I insane for wanting to hear those sounds one more time?_

Yes, he probably is. Vegard opens his eyes again, and finds his brother still staring up at him, those bright blue eyes that contain a gleam of lust Vegard has to fight not to give in again.

He knows Bård has a point, he’s right when he said that they shouldn’t do it, but they _can_. The thing is, Vegard doesn’t want to hurt Bård. He’s thought about it thousands of times, wondering what would happen if he just kisses Bård out of the blue and says he wants to give it a try. Would Bård grow tired of him after the first months? What would happen if, theoretically, they were together and it just didn’t work out? Vegard doesn’t want to imagine what would be of their plans for the future. He guesses they wouldn’t be able to work together, and their relationship as brothers would deteriorate to the point they wouldn’t bear to look at each other. He doesn’t want that to happen, he doesn’t want to ruin the most precious thing he has, he doesn’t want to hurt his brother, it wouldn’t be fair to Bård.

And that’s just one of the billion of possibilities that comes with _‘if’_. Vegard can’t imagine what he’d do if he were to lose Bård after having it all. The more he stares into his blue eyes, the more he’s tempted to kiss him again, to whisper he’s sorry over and over again, because Bård knows he wants it, _he wants him_ , but he can’t put Bård under that big _‘if’_. His hands are still on Bård’s shoulders, and he lifts one of his hands to cup his brother’s cheek. _I love you more than you can imagine_. The words won’t dare to come out of his throat, but he caresses his thumb over Bård’s cheekbone for a brief moment and hopes his brother is able to tell what he means with actions rather than words before letting his hand drop back to his shoulder.

“Listen, Vegard, if you want this as much as I do, I’m in, no matter what the future might bring for us,” he whispers, and the serenity in his voice makes Vegard calmer, somehow. “And I mean it. I don’t care if we have to hide from our family and friends, I’d do everything to be with you. But if you don’t want this…please don’t tease me like that.”

His eyes widen in surprise at his brother’s words. He’s not teasing Bård, he truly isn’t, but for as much as he wants to speak those words, Vegard chooses to remain silent. What good would it do them if he were to start an argument over something that can be better left alone? He knows that no matter how much he’d like to say yes, he can’t bring himself to do that. He can’t keep hurting Bård.

Instead, Vegard nods at his brother’s words, and sees the change in his brother’s eyes. However, he can’t stop himself from leaning in and placing a small and sweet peck on Bård’s cheek. It’s nothing like what happened between them minutes ago, there’s no lust or desire in the way his lips brush against his brother’s skin. As he pulls back, he sees a sad grin on Bård’s face, and he feels a trace of guilt tripping over him. Their eyes meet and Bård nods as sign of confirmation.

With ease, Vegard hops off Bård’s lap. He feels Bård’s hands slowly sliding off his hips and falling heavily over his own thighs. Vegard’s eyes advert the hard on present on his brother’s sweatpants, and he immediately makes himself look away, feeling his cheeks blushing and his own cock giving a twitch.

“I— I am going to take a shower now,” Vegard quickly excuses himself, awkwardly rubbing the palms of his hands together and avoiding glaring at his brother’s face, too embarrassed to meet the blue eyes he so well knows. “I’ll be back soon.”

Bård nods in acknowledgement and does a reverence towards the other side of the living room, to which Vegard nods back and trails off in the bathroom’s direction. Even as he walks with quick steps, Vegard feels his hardness brushing against the fabric of his jeans, and he bites his lower lip in irritation. What was he thinking when he offered Bard a backrub? Was there any other way the situation wouldn’t have ended with the two of them kissing? Vegard doesn’t know, but that doesn’t make him feel any better. He’s felt Bård’s own hardness against his thigh, and the mere thought makes him even more frustrated as he crosses the doorframe to walk into the guests bathroom.

Vegard closes the door behind him and immediately presses his back against the surface. The heated kiss left him with a ragged breathing and a heart bumping too fast. Bård has that effect on him. Vegard’s mind is a bit fuzzy, but even then he reaches down and unbuttons his jeans, pulling them a bit down. The brushing of the jeans over his crotch makes him choke out a painful whimper. It feels quite wrong to know you are hard for your brother, but Vegard can’t avoid it, part of him has accepted it already. He glares down at his prominent erection and can’t stop himself from dropping his hand down, palming himself through the fabric of his boxers. He starts with mere brushes of his fingers over the stiff member, but soon he is actually stroking himself through the fabric of his boxers. The outline of his hard cock can be seen even with his underwear on, and every squeeze he gives is better than the previous one.

Vegard only decides to stop when he realises he needs to ease the ache. He makes sure to lock the door before taking a step towards the shower. With firm hands, Vegard starts to get rid of the rest of his clothes as soon as he can and quickly he turns the water on to have some background noise and make sure Bård wouldn’t be able to hear him. All in all, he takes some seconds to adjust the water temperature from the common cold one to the familiar warmness he is used to. He makes sure the door is locked before finally removing his underwear, releasing his aching boner.

“Well, fuck me,” he curses in a low voice as his gaze drops to his member and realises how hard he is, how hard _Bård_ has made him. “Fuck.”

In spite of the events, it’s not the first time Vegard gets a hard on from thinking of his brother. It is the first time that he’s been so close to Bård, so close to crossing a line that he promised not to think of. That kind of heated closeness is what does these kind of things to him. But who can really blame him when Bård’s hands were firmly grabbing his buttcheeks as if to claim them his own, a title Vegard would not mind giving him, and on top of that, Bård was shirtless, their mouths fitting so perfectly together and tongues hot and warm as they moved together, and _God_ —

Those thoughts aren’t helping.

Vegard glares down at himself and closes his eyes. How many times has he woken up with a morning wood thanks to his brain playing tricks on him and deciding to dream of Bård’s naked body under him? Or on top of him, both work perfectly fine. He usually gets himself in hand and gets off with the thought of his brother moaning his name. It’s something he isn’t proud of or something he is willing to admit loudly, but just the thought of Bård’s naked body turns him on. His brother’s body is long and slender, and it’s only gotten better with the pass of the years. Vegard loves his body, would definitely love to undress it only so he could run his fingers on Bård’d skin, touching all of his curves and edges. The mental image makes his cock give a twitch, clearly asking for attention.

To that, he immediately complies. Vegard doesn’t allow himself to keep thinking much before taking himself in hand. The grip on his cock is firm yet pleasant, starting with a soft, paused squeeze back and forth the length of his cock, pumping from the base to the tip, coating himself with the precome. Suppressing the moan from escaping his lips is impossible, yet he tries to lower his voice tone until it’s nothing but a murmur. What would Bård say if he could see Vegard now? Would he be disgusted, or would he gladly join? Vegard knows the answer, and his cock throbs at the confirmation.

He simply can’t forget the way Bård’s own hardness pressed against Vegard’s thigh felt, how much he regrets not getting his hand Bård’s into pants and granting him the satisfaction his brother both wanted and deserved. He could make Bård feel so much better, he knows he could. Vegard closes his eyes, and he allows himself to imagine how perfectly it would’ve been. Small moans coming from Bård’s parted lips as Vegard’s hand begins stroking his stiff cock, starting at the base of his member and then slowly moving upwards. As desperate as he’s always been, Bård would probably ask him to speed up but Vegard would take his time with his brother, allowing himself to discover all of the spots on his body that made him go crazy. Fuck, the mental image of Bård’s flushed face is too much for Vegard, and he can’t help but giving himself a hard stroke as he continues fantasising about his little brother.

Vegard only stops for a brief moment to step into the shower. Thankfully, the water is just as steamy as he needs it to be, and he gets under it as he takes himself in hand once more. His eyelids drop and he pictures Bård squirming underneath him as Vegard would rub his thumb over the shaft. His brother’s pupils would be so blown now that his eyes would be similar to Vegard, and he’d probably encourage him to speed up. Placing his left hand on the wall for better support, Vegard wraps his other hand around himself again. He gives some slow and painful strokes, and as his imagination runs free, he starts increasing the rhythm, feeling the hot water pouring over his head and runs down his back. His fist bumps up and down, and his eyes focus on the water from the shower sweeping off the precome. There are so many things he would like to do with Bård. Vegard knows beautifully his brother would start to curse loudly as Vegard complied and jerked him faster, and Vegard would chuckle against his skin. Because yes, he would also kiss all of Bård’s jawline and neck, kiss and marking right where he finds his pulse, claim all of his pale flesh as his own with hickeys and bites. Would Bård moan in pleasure as Vegard’s teeth dig into his skin, or would he simply breathe heavily? _Moan, definitely moan._

With better thoughts in mind, he would eventually stop jerking Bård, and Bård would look at him questionably as he’d manage to move to the bottom of the couch and lower his head into his brother’s lap. Truth is, Vegard has never been with a man before, but his curiosity has won him over for some years ago, and he’s got to admit he’s watched some gay porn, so he knows the basics of it. He’s inexperienced on giving blowjobs, but he would do his best with Bård, he’d take his cock on his mouth and swirl his tongue around it, and he’s so sure Bård would moan his name again. Taking the hand off the wall, Vegard leads his middle finger to his mouth and licks it just as he’d do with Bård’s cock, swirling his warm tongue and hollowing his cheeks as he sucks hard on it. Bård would love it, and he’d wrap his long fingers on Vegard’s curls, tugging at the hair.

While he continues stroking himself energetically, Vegard feels himself getting close to his orgasm, and he slowly opens his legs as wide as he manages to on the inside of the shower and withdraws his wet finger from his mouth. He reaches behind his back, hand setting between his spread buttcheeks. Hell, he remembers how both of Bård’s hands squeezing his butt had felt, and as he slowly works a finger into himself, taking in a deep breath as he feels it sliding in.

The lack of lubrication makes him whimper, the contact burning as he pushes in, but he breathes out and tries to relax. Leaning his forehead to the wall instead, Vegard shuts his eyes tightly and does his best to picture it’s Bård’s finger working him open, that his brother has pushed him to lay on his back on the couch and took his pants off, Bård’s long finger fucking him slowly and sending shivers down his spine as it curls inside him. Luckily, his brother’s finger is just as calloused as his own, product of playing instruments with strings for many years, so it isn’t much difficult for Vegard to imagine it is Bård working him open, allowing his ring finger to slide in with the middle one as the thrusting starts to speed up. Soon the burning sensation is won over by the pleasure he gets every time his fingers hit a spot that Vegard’s gotten to discover by himself in similar situations, long nights when he can’t get rid of the image of his brother kissing him and pressing their bodies together.

Because fuck, Bård is beautiful, he is _so_ beautiful and witty and goddamn intelligent, he’s everything he’s ever liked in someone, he’s fucking unique. Vegard wants to concentrate in one mental image of his brother for better results, but at least a thousand images of his brother flash before his eyes like a video, and he doesn’t dare to look at one. However, his mind nimbly goes back to the fantasy on his mind; Vegard on the couch, spreading his legs wide, two of Bård’s fingers working him open. It’s such a terrific fantasy Vegard finds himself completely lost in. He pushes a third finger in, and his other hand is moving eagerly up and down his cock now. He knows his brother, and he knows Bård would take his fingers out and before Vegard could even have time to complain, he’d feel the head of Bård’s cock pressing against his rim muscle. And he knows, oh, he knows Bård would lean down to kiss his lips before slowly pushing in.

Vegard is practically lost in ecstasy by now, lost in a memory that can never be, in the image of Bård thrusting in and out of him with amazing strength and whispering rushed words into his ear with his hot breath. His fingers keep thrusting in and out of himself, hitting his prostate each time more quicker and with more strength. The moans are impossible to suppress now, he is doing his best to keep it as low as he can, but as he fucks his fingers deeper and strokes himself faster, he can hardly get a grip on reality.

“Fuck, _Bård_.”

As the name leaves his trembling lips, Vegard comes in his own hand with the mental image of Bård’s flushed face. He pumps his cock a couple of times and as he throws his head back, feels the hot and sticky come being washed off by the steamy water that’s still pouring over him. Vegard’s body is trembling and he pulls his fingers out due to the need to support himself on the wall as his knees weaken.

As the bliss from his orgasm starts to dissipate, Vegard becomes absolutely repulsed by what he’s just done.

 _I am the worst brother in the universe_.

 

* * *

 

With a heavy conscience, Vegard walks back into the chilly living room. His hair is damp, a thin drop of water rolling down his nape and disappearing once it makes contact with the neck of his fluffy clothing. He wears a fresh change of clothes now he’s showered; a black greenish sweater and a set of light blue jeans. The first thing he notices is that his brother isn’t in front of the TV anymore. Then, the order in the small place makes Vegard arch an eyebrow in bewilderment. The couch is weirdly set in place, two small cushions on the both ends of the couch and a blanket carefully folded over the armrest. Another thing he takes in notice is that the coffee mugs aren’t on the table anymore, and neither is the empty bag of crisps. He takes a quick glimpse over the kitchen, expecting to find his brother there, but the place is deserted, and the only audible sound is the soft noise of the running refrigerator.

Last time Vegard saw Bård he was still sitting cross legged on the couch, idly staring at the television screen. In the rush to get into the bathroom, Vegard had forgotten to bring in his changes of clothes, and once he stepped out of the shower he wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door, ready to look for the backpack full of clothes he’d brought to Bård’s place. However, before he got the time to look for it in his brother’s room, he noticed it was idly against the wall parallel to the door. Peeking his head into the living room, Vegard’s eyes searched for his brother across the room and found him on the couch, eyes shifting from the phone in his hands to the TV. He easily figured his brother had moved the backpack there whilst he was taking the shower, and a part of him immediately began to wonder whether Bård had heard the noises he made on the inside of the bathroom or not.

However, now the TV has been turned off, and there is an unsettling quietness in the place that makes Vegard worry.

The first conclusion his brains comes up with is that Bård has left the place and gone for a walk. The mere thought of Bård sitting on a cold bench outside seeking for a moment alone to sort things out leaves Vegard with a hollow feeling on the pit of his stomach. If he well knows Bård tends to isolate himself when his mind is troubled, he’s never had to face the fear of not being able to reach him. Ever since kids, Vegard has been the one to look for Bård in times of despair, providing him both comfort and all the support he might need. The mere idea of Bård trying to run away after Vegard so cowardly turned down the offer that could’ve made them both happy makes him feel both like an hypocrite and an idiot. _Which I am_ , he so bitterly thinks as he runs his hand through his wet curls.

Before adopting that conclusion as a fact, Vegard decides to look into his brother’s room. He takes hurried steps across the living room and onto the narrow hallway until he reaches the door. _Maybe Bård is taking a nap_ , he thinks as he approaches the doorway with swift steps. The wooden door isn’t entirely closed, a small gap allows him to take a look inside yet the room is too dim for him to take a clear view. Unsure whereas his brother is there or not, Vegard takes some precautions as he reaches for the doorknob, carefully pushing the door open rather than opening it in one hard shove.

He feels a light wave of relief washing over him once his eyes make the shape of Bård lying on his chest over the bed. He looks peaceful, still wearing the grey sweatpants and now carrying the black shirt he’d gotten rid of earlier. Vegard can effortlessly tell he isn’t asleep; his brother tends to sleep on his side or face down rather than on his chest. Suddenly the relief he feels gets accompanied by a sting of pain in his heart the moment he notices his brother’s face is buried on a pillow, hid by his arms. It’s a rather unusual behaviour from his brother to fix the living room and chose to rest afterwards on the bed rather than the couch. Could it be that Bård is crying after what happened? Vegard shudders at the idea.

 _Have I made him cry_?

He approaches the bed with easy steps, not really minding to close the door considering the two are alone. The room is even more chilly than the living room; one of the windows is open and a chill breeze blows inside the room, moving the curtains in a wavy pattern. Bård doesn’t give any kind of recognition sound as Vegard approaches and sits beside him on the bed, mattress sinking as he makes himself comfortable. He throws his right leg over the mattress, almost brushing Bård’s armpit with his knee. It doesn’t take much for his eyes to get used to the slight dimness surrounding them, and his gaze roams across his brother’s body. He sighs deeply, and his heart shrinks as he stares at his brother’s messy hair.

“Hey…” Vegard murmurs tenderly, carefully moving his hand to place it on the back of his brother’s neck. Bård gives a soft purr as response once his fingers tangle between the soft strands of hair that fall on his nape. “Are you asleep?”

Bård simply shakes his head no and rolls his head so his cheek is resting over his forearm, meeting Vegard’s eyes for a short moment. Vegard soon takes in notice the white of his eyes are slightly coloured of a light shade of pink, but before he can confirm his supposition, Bård buries his face back on the pillow, leaving Vegard with the doubt whether there were traces of sadness on his features or not.

 _Shit_. Has he fucked up with disappearing as soon as he forced them to stop getting closer? Perhaps he should’ve spoken then, because looking back it was a move that only a coward would take. Vegard exhales deeply and slowly shakes his head in nervousness. Part of him has been hoping Bård didn’t take Vegard’s response the wrong way, understanding why he had scurried away so promptly. After all, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. Bård knew Vegard was hard— worse than that, he _felt_ it, Vegard’s mind corrects as his face heats up at the memory and his insides twists in shame. Nevertheless, the mere idea of his brother crying makes him feel more guilty than he already is.

Yet it is not too late to right his wrongs. Vegard is still there and his fingers are gingerly brushing the golden locks of hair that are so familiar under his touch, idly scratching Bård’s scalp with the tips of his fingers every now and then, knowing just how much Bård likes that. Perhaps he truly did his brother wrong, and he is more than determined to fix it.

Vegard gathers all his courage and begins to speak.

“Listen, Bård, there’s something I need to tell you…”

To that, his brother lifts his head from the pillow and meets his gaze. It’s merely to let him know he’s listening, Vegard is aware of that, so he isn’t surprised when Bård buries his face on the pillow again.

“This is hard for me, you have no idea _how_ hard…” His voice trembles, and a weak chuckle leaves his lips without permission.

Talking about his feelings must be one of the hardest things for him to do, and his brother must be aware of that. But this is Bård, his brother, the person he loves the most, the only one that can make him open up like this. It’s the only motivation he needs to try to speak up, he can do his best for Bård.

“Or maybe you do,” Vegard continues, snorting back a chuckle. “You know me very well, after all. And the thing is, what we did earlier…you have to understand why I can’t let us cross that line.” His fingers brush the soft hair and the motion seems to make his words flow more freely, to make him calmer. He hopes it’s the same for Bård. “I wish we could be together, I wish that more than anything in the world, but it’s not that easy, is it? Love is not an as easy as two people who want to be together, it’s so much complex than that.” He chuckles weakly once more. “Jesus, you are important to me, _so_ important, Bård, but I don’t want to risk it. Please, don’t take my words the wrong way because there is nothing I want more than to kiss you again, than for us to be together, because I—”

His mouth hangs open but the words just won’t leave his throat. _I love you, I love you more than anything, I love you so much it hurts me to keep us from kissing, from touching, I just love you, but I can’t risk losing you_. He stops caressing his brother’s hair to take in a deep breath, fingers freezing right on the back of his neck. It’s so hard for him to speak his mind up, it’s so hard for him to shape the way he feels into words, mostly because he doesn’t know how to. He’s never had to explain his feelings to anyone before, and the few times he’d have emotional talks with Bård, his brother has always known what Vegard is feeling already. The connection they share allows them to enjoy knowing things beforehand, to communicate without the need of words. Nonetheless, Vegard does feel the need to speak now, his brother deserves it.

“Because you know the way I feel about you,” Vegard mumbles as his fingers find the mass of hair once more, voice soft and so full of emotion he finds it find to believe he’s actually spoken the words out loud. “You know how special you are to me and that I could never imagine my life without you. I physically can’t do that, Bård. And I’m sorry for running away earlier, I should’ve told you why I acted like that but…you know how much it takes me to speak up.” If he is already struggling to let the words out, he feel somehow relieved when his brother chuckles, voice coming muffled by the pillow. “See? You know I’m being honest here. So please, Bård, don’t think I am rejecting you or something along those lines, because there’s nothing I wish more than to be with you, _nothing_ ,” he confesses, cheeks gaining colour from embarrassment. “I just don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

And he knows it’s not much to say, but it’s all he can offer. He doesn’t possess the skill his brother has with word, Vegard has to battle inside to get some words out. The breeze blows right on his nape and Vegard notices that his curls have partially dried now. Before he gets the chance to overthink, his brother rolls his head on the pillow and their eyes find each other.

“You’re not hurting me, Vegard,” he immediately says, voice somewhat deep but lacking of any trace of malice or bitterness. “And I wasn’t crying, if that’s what’s been nagging at you.”

“You know me, huh?” Vegard snorts back a laugh and pulls playfully at Bård’s hair.

Bård chuckles lightly. “Better than you know yourself.”

And perhaps that’s true. There are several times in which Vegard finds himself in situations he doesn’t quite know how to respond, yet Bård always seems to find the solution to his problems without further complications. Vegard doesn’t doubt that Bård is as good telling Vegard’s thoughts as he is telling Vegard’s feelings. He knows him better than anyone else, that much is true, and Vegard feels quite glad he has someone like that in his life.

His fingers drop from his brother’s hair to gently trace the side of his face with his knuckles. Bård’s face breaks into a silent and kind smile, and Vegard soon finds himself cupping Bård’s cheek for the second time that evening. His usual cold skin feels warm under his fingertips, and Vegard flashes him a small grin as he rubs his thumbs over his brother’s cheekbone. How can Bård be as pretty as an angel yet also be able to turn him on like minutes earlier? Apparently his beauty has no boundaries.

“And I know, Vegard,” he continues, “I understand why you’re saying that, but it’s just…” Bård trails off for a second, and it’s as if he could speak just with the gleam present in his bright eyes. “I need you to be aware that understanding what you said earlier is not going to change the way I feel about you— the way _we_ feel towards each other. I can assure you that it isn’t going to disappear.”

Again, Bård has a point. It doesn’t matter how hard Vegard has tried to fight the feelings he bears for his brother, how much he’d wish to suppress them in order to be a better brother, it’s all been fruitless, a waste of effort. His brother tilts his head, relaxing against Vegard’s palm and closing his eyes. Vegard’s insides are fuzzy as he stares as his brother’s gentle expression, gently brushing his thumb on his cheeks as he studies his features.

“If these feelings haven’t disappeared in ten years I think they’re not going to disappear now,” Bård adds full of conviction. “You know that.”

“I do…” Vegard exhales deeply, because Bård is right. Loving Bård has been part of his life for as soon as he remembers, and he doesn’t think that’s going to change either. After Bård’s eyelids flutter open again, Vegard moves hand back to Bård’s hair. His fingers softly stroke his brother’s scalp as they move, and he can tell the atmosphere around them is one full of tranquillity. “Jesus, has it truly been that long?”

“Uh-huh,” he hums and lets his head fall back on the pillow, this time pressing his cheek against the soft case in order to look at Vegard. “Ten years, give or take. I remember looking at you wearing your stupid boxers in the mornings and cursing in my mind every time I caught a glimpse of your nice ass.”

“ _Bård_ ,” he warns with a deep voice, yet he cannot help but giggle at the new piece of information. In spite of the awareness of their emotions, they have never truly spoken about these things. Honestly, it makes Vegard happy it doesn’t feel awkward to talk about it. “I was the one who checked you out before you were even legal,” Vegard confesses, completely embarrassed at himself. “Jesus, what kind of a shitty older brother am I?”

“Oh, shush it, you’re the best brother,” Bård shoots back, and  the words make Vegard crack a smile. “Plus, I’ve always been hot, it’s more than understandable.”

“That much I can confirm.” Vegard laughs. “I don’t have a nice ass, though.”

All of the sudden Bård flexes his arm and digs his elbow on Vegard’s thigh. “That’s not up for you to decide.”

“Oh, is it up to you, then?”

“Of course.” He smiles widely, and Vegard is glad to see that smile again. “Nice ass and great thighs.”

“Stop it,” he says with amusement, remembering Bård’s previous comment about his thighs during the interview.

His fingers keep on playing with the soft strands of hair. Perhaps things won’t change much in the future, their feelings remaining untouched and locked away, but as long as they can allow themselves to share the closeness that has endured throughout the years, things will be alright. They have spent years like that already, haven’t they? If well at times it has been quite difficult to hide their lustful desires towards each other, it is something they have learned how to live with. But to have this, to be able to allow himself these kind of moments with his brother is all he needs to be content, to see him smile widely and with ease, to know he feels content whenever they are together, to feel him relaxing under his gentle touch. Vegard lives for these moments, could get lost in them for hours.

“Am I truly?”

“What?”

Vegard looks up and imitates Bård’s voice in a comic manner. “The best brother.”

“Of course you are,” Bård says matter-of-factly. “Though don’t let Bjarte know I said that. He promised he’d give me a ride on his helicopter next summer.”

“I have a pilot license,” he reminds him with pride. “I could pilot a plane.”

“I’m not sure I’d like to be on that plane.”

“Hey!” Vegard exclaims with fake hurt in his voice, yet his hand still brushes gingerly his brother’s hair.

It’s fine, he knows that Bård would be as excited as he’d be if he were to fly a plane, probably acting uninterested about it but giving in after some moments. Vegard tries to imagine his brother’s face on a passenger seat whilst he makes his way to the pilot cabin. He wonders how many jokes Bård would make in the brief lapse of time they’d be able to see each other. Some giggles escape his mouth without permission, and he rubs his free hand over his thigh.

“What are you laughing at?”

“You, actually,” he admits with ease. “You are a big jerk.”

Bård gives an understanding noise and rolls over at his side, making Vegard’s hand fall from his hair to the side of his neck. He faces Vegard and digs his elbow on the pillow, supporting his head on his hand as he stares at Vegard with big bright eyes.

“Vegard?”

He smiles, rubbing his fingers up and down Bård’s neck, enjoying the warmth of his flesh. “Yes?”

“Not that I don’t appreciate what you’re doing right now,” he says, pointing at his hair with his thumb, “but my back still aches.”

“Do you still want me to give you a massage?” Vegard laughs, unsure whereas that’s what his brother suggest.

“Well, of course, considering you never finished before,” Bård replies shortly. “For which I am totally guilty of. So no kissing this time, I promise.”

Maybe he should automatically rule out the suggestion judging by what happened earlier. He’s aware that Bård is still going to make sounds the moment Vegard starts adding pressure to the tense spots on his back, and that he should probably keep himself from sitting on his brother’s body in spite of knowing it’d be the most comfortable way to offer him an enjoyable massage. But they’re both aware of the implications, and Vegard knows that Bård means what he says. There’ll be no kissing, no grinding their hips together, no contact that could heat things up between them.

So, instead of joking and telling Bård he’s lost his chance, Vegard reaches for Bård’s phone on the other side of the bed and unlocks it. He is quick to find a radio app, and without minding much for a particular music genre, he clicks on the first station he sees before tossing the phone over the mattress again. As the catchy chorus of a mainstream song breaks the silence in the room, Vegard discovers it’s a pop station after all. His eyes meet Bård’s and he can see the amusement in his gaze.

His brother laughs loudly and throws his head back. “Are you seriously going to give me a massage to _Katy Perry_?” He asks, the laugher lines noticeable on his face.

“Shut up and take your shirt off,” Vegard demands, the curves of his mouth upwards in a bright grin as he motions Bård to get moving.

And as Bård sits up on the mattress to get rid of his shirt, the cheeky and victorious smile on his face doesn’t go unnoticed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, there's something I need to point out. This chapter has been ready for about two weeks (or one week and a half, give or take) but it was only yesterday that I could sent it to my beta, for she was off on a vacation. Some days ago I happened to stumble across [this lovely work](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3178256/chapters/6904301) by the author [saakaat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/saakaat/pseuds/saakaat) (which I totally rec), and I spotted some similarities with this chapter. I only wanted to say that these similarities are just odd causalities! 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this bit ◕ ‿ ◕


	6. .vi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been such a long time since I last updated this. My intention was update back in February, but well, life happened. I'm sorry for taking so long! But yeah, I have finally managed to finish this. This chapter has turned out to be longer than I expected, but well, I think it needed to be this lengthy for making you guys wait for so long.
> 
> I need to thank [Valentina]() for reading around 15k words of this in one-go. She's amazing and without her motivation I don't think I would've made it this far. And well, needless to say that any kind of typos and errors are my own. I'll try to bulletproof read this later :-)
> 
> Enjoy!

_2013_

 

It starts as a bitter feeling at the pit of his stomach, a biting sensation that he can’t stop from spreading until it takes over his entire body. Vegard knows he shouldn’t carry such resentment with him, he knows he can’t justify the way his hands curl into fists every time he spots another person getting dangerously close to his brother, but it’s unavoidable. It goes beyond the things he can control.

Vegard feels just as he did when he was twenty three years old and Bård went out on two dates with a tall blonde girl. Her name is long forgotten now, but she’s the one Bård gave up on after knowing Vegard didn’t like her. It wasn’t as if he’d been verbal about it all those years back, but he truly behaved like a dick when Bård went out with her, jealousy dropping from his every pore at the mere thought of her hands on his brother’s body. It was helpless back then, and it’s helpless now. Vegard’s behaviour automatically changes at the thought of someone getting close to his brother. And he’s aware it happens from time to time, he’s aware Bård has taken lucky girls to his apartments, girls he’s never heard of after rushed nights, but it’s better if he doesn’t know about it.

For once, being ignorant seems to be the easy way out. _It hurts less_ , he thinks.

When Bård told him he turned down another date with the blonde girl because he knew Vegard wasn’t comfortable with her, the older brother took the decision he’d accept whomever Bård decided to be with, in spite of their physical appearance or their personality. It was years ago, but the words have marked him. Ever since then, Vegard has learned how to deal with the burning flame that lights in his insides every time he catches stranger’s eyes staring at his brother in lust. The only solution he’s found to bear with everything has been to bottle up all of those feelings and put on a mask to cover his true thoughts on the issue. However, to know those feelings of jealousy have never gotten away but actually grown stronger as the years have passed by, makes Vegard want to throw up. He knows that regardless how much he tries to accept someone by Bård’s side, he will never like the idea of a stranger occupying the other side of his bed.

Vegard shifts uncomfortably in his chair. He recognises the feeling rising in his insides right away, the one that drives him mad and makes him bite so hard onto the inside of his cheek that soon the metallic taste of blood fills his mouth. He hasn’t felt it as strong as right now in years, but the jealousy is slowly gnawing at him. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth that forces him to think fast before the camera is able to catch a glimpse of the involuntary and displeased grimace his face twists into. Concealing his emotions, Vegard smiles while he shifts on the chair and grabs at the right armrest. He leans in to give a fake and raucous laughter that matches the ones from the audience. There are people watching him, watching _them_ — he knows better than to let his guard down in these kind of situations. He can’t be exposed.

Across from him, Calle is slowly leaning in until his thin lips meet Bård’s, and Vegard can only tighten his grip on the armrest. His knuckles go white as he digs the fingers deep into the leather. It’s a good thing chairs are inanimate objects, because if they could speak, Vegard’s would’ve given a big yelp. All he can do is force out a fake and exaggerated laughter that he knows no one will be able to recognise. _No one but Bård_ , he corrects himself.

Even though the kiss lasts less than a second, Vegard can’t stop the blood from boiling on the inside of his veins. It isn’t scripted, he’s had no time to prepare himself for witnessing something like that. When Calle suggested it, Vegard never thought Bård would actually agree, but apparently he was up to do it for the comedy’s sakes. And that’s alright, isn’t it? They’re comedians. They make people laugh.

He needs to keep faking it.

“Let’s watch it in slow motion,” Vegard exclaims as giggles escape his lips, trying to sound as natural and funny as it’s characteristic of him. “Put some soft music!” He encourages as the kiss is replayed for them, and he eyes Bård as he sings a funny melody. “Look at that!” Is he overdoing it? Is the excitement as fake for the rest of the people in the place as it sounds to him? “Beautiful.”

The three of them chuckle lightheartedly, the audience still clapping their hands and laughing loudly for some other seconds. It’s nice, the audience has liked the random act of friendliness, and Vegard suspects people at home will like it, too.  It’s meant to be funny, and the easy atmosphere the humour creates in the big set remains untouched until Bård slams his palms on the desk.

“Let’s move on!” He exclaims, a smile still gracing his features.

And so, without any complains, the show continues as planned.

The mood of the place is pleasant for the rest of the people, everyone laughing easily at the joke and sketches they have to offer. That’s enough for Vegard to try and push away that green-eyed monster that dares to take over his whole self whenever he glares at his brother having a nice conversation with their long haired friend. He’s gotta be a professional, after all, yet he still finds it hard to digest. Vegard knows it’s a bit ridiculous to be on his nerves, but Bård agreed to it with such ease it truly upsets him.

Once they’re backstage Vegard is finally able to drop his act and let a deep breath out of his lungs. He feels suddenly so tired for having to be so fake during the whole episode. Without sharing a single word, he heads straight for the changing room. Bård does shoot him a confused look when he turns left rather than continuing their path down the hallway, but Vegard can’t make himself follow the rest of them. Maybe all he needs is to sleep for more than six hours and drink a cup of tea to calm himself.

Once in the room, he undoes his black tie and throws it on top of his jacket. He proceeds to remove the rest of his clothes until he’s down to his black boxers and socks. Vegard takes a look at himself on the mirror. Lips pressed into a very thin line, small, red veins making their presence on the white of his eyes, the curls of his messy black hair completely out of place. Jesus, he looks miserable. Yet the feeling doesn’t limit to his looks, Vegard feels so weary all of the sudden, his eyeballs burning with every blink. To rub his eyes, Vegard takes his lenses off. He digs the heel of his palm so hard that he forces some tears out, though it’s nothing to do with his emotions.

It’s truly exhausting to pretend so much for the camera. Commonly, Vegard is quite open as the show takes its usual course. Their showbiz personalities do vary from their usual selves, but both of them try to be as friendly and welcoming as they can. While Bård is the main host, Vegard’s happy with being at his side and joining into the interviews and presenting the sketches, among other things. But today it just felt hard for him to go on as if nothing happened.

Apparently, his acting skills aren’t as greater as he thought they were.

He’s almost ready. Vegard wears his plaid button-up shirt, the suit neatly folded over the chair. The moment he’s pulling his pants up, the door to the changing room flies open. Zipping them up, Vegard turns around. As expected, it’s Bård who comes in with a small smile, still wearing his suit.

“Hello, dear brother,” he greets him cheerfully as his fingers start undoing his tie. “You disappeared as soon as we walked off the stage.”

Vegard fastens the belt around his waist and drops on one of the chairs. “Didn’t really feel like chatting with the rest,” he offers shortly, reaching for his boots.

“And why is that?”

“I don’t know,” he lies with a small shrug. “I think I need to get some rest. It was a long day.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Bård utters, mildly vexed. Vegard looks up from his shoelaces to notice Bård is stepping closer with a faint frown on his features. His white button-up shirt is open, revealing the white tank top underneath. “Aren’t you coming with us to get a couple of beers at the bar?”

“I don’t know, Bård…” His gaze drops to the ground, tracing the straight lines between the tiles. Maybe it’ll be better if he goes straight home and waits until the thoughts of Calle kissing his brother disappear. They have to fade away sometime.

“Oh, Vegard, come on!” Both of his hands drop heavily on top of his shoulders. A reassuring squeeze is all it takes for Vegard to meet his gaze again. Blue eyes, always so bright and vibrant, making him forget about everything for a moment. “I already told Magnus we were going. It’ll only be the four of us.”

Vegard’s heart skips a beat at the _‘we’_ in the sentence. The use of _‘we’_ rather than _‘I’_ often has that effect on his, in spite of how common it is by now, something they have been doing mindlessly for years whenever one of them gets asked a question. Both brothers spend so much time together that they seem to have forgotten how to speak in first person. Sometimes their friends tease them for it, but Vegard secretly hopes Bård will never stop using it.

“You don’t need me around to have a good time,” Vegard offers those silly words rather than an actual response. It’s true, they are used to hang out together quite often, but he’s more certain that Bård is able to have fun without him. “It’ll all be fine.”

“Oh, shut up, Vegard, of course I do.” Bård shakes him lightly and pouts, just like a child. “You have to come.”

His eyes wander across Bård’s neat features, from the small wrinkles on his eyes to the length of his jawline. He skips staring at his lips, refusing to bring back what happened moments ago. Instead, Vegard’s eyes shift between his other features, studying his expression, the closeness between them, the warmth of Bård’s palms weighing him down.

His head is offering a small nod before he registers his actions. Bård smiles widely.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll go.”

What can possibly go wrong?

 

* * *

 

“Gin,” Vegard orders, tucking a loose curl behind his ear. He places the money on top of the counter, close to the man on the other side. “Dry. A shot.”

The bartender, a tall guy with hazel eyes and short blond hair, takes the bill off the counter. Vegard eyes him, taking in notice the tiger stripes covering his left arm down to the wrist. Quite an interesting tattoo. Once their eyes meet again, the bartender gives him an acknowledging gesture before heading off to the other end of the bar. Vegard prefers to follow the bartender’s movements rather than establishing conversation with Magnus. His friend sits at his side, idly browsing the Twitter feed on his phone. In any other occasion, he’d make small chat with him, but not today. Honestly, Vegard fears he might snap at him for no reason, so he prefers to keep quiet. He knows himself enough to know it’s better to remain silent when he feels as distressed as he does.

They are already at the bar, only Vegard and Magnus sitting by the counter while Bård and Calle are trying to find one booth for them. Knowing Bård, it’ll probably be the one on the furthest corner of the establishment. With his leather jacket resting on top of his thighs, Vegard sits in one of the tall stools, idly tapping his fingers on the wooden bar. He watches the bartender work from a fair distance before taking a quick glance around. The place isn’t too crowded, which he thinks is better for them. He likes it better when he can drink without having to worry about someone taking a picture in some uncanny moment.

When his brother informed the group he’d find the booth, their long haired friend immediately jumped on his feet and exclaimed he’d join Bård. _Of course he was going to join Bård_ , Vegard muses bitterly as he snorts. The more he thinks about it, the more sense it makes to him. They’ve known Calle since they were teens, and on a couple of occasions Bård has said he is the funniest guy he knows. The two seem to click, getting along and sharing a tight friendship. While it’s true their relationship doesn’t match the bond between the two Ylvisåkers, Vegard still can picture more than a friendship. _Because there could be something deeper than a friendship_ , Vegard thinks with resentment, _because they’re not brothers_. Perhaps Bård fancies him, that would explain why he agreed on kissing him without hesitating. And Calle surely feels the same way, because who wouldn’t? Anyone would be flattered to receive Bård’s attention.

Vegard has been lucky enough to have his brother’s full attention since they were young, and he’s selfish by wanting to keep it that way. His brown eyes are the ones Bård looks for whenever they’re in a room full of people. He is the one who knows what kind of story Bård is going to tell merely by his gestures. He’s the one Bård can be himself with, the one that loves to the stars and beyond. And yet, if they were to show affection on television, even for comedy relief, he knows Bård wouldn’t agree.

It’s not that he wants to kiss his brother on national TV, but— _why Calle_? Why was Bård so disposed to do it?

The shot of gin is placed on the surface of the counter and Vegard gives him a _‘thank you’_ nod as the blond bartender turns his back to approach another man sitting by the bar. Vegard holds the glass between his thumb and index, starting at the transparent liquid for a couple of seconds, as if the spirituous drink held the answers to his questions. Could Bård be the one who searched for Calle? Would it be because Vegard said they couldn’t be together? His insides twitch.

In the past, Bård agreed with him, affirming things between them couldn’t happen again. And still, Vegard also remembers Bård’s words, loud and clear in his memories. _These feelings aren’t going to disappear_. Vegard knows that, he’s known it all along— but can it be that Bård has found a way to deal with his feelings differently? To make them go away?

If Bård has, Vegard knows he should be glad for him, because Bård deserves to be happy with whomever he wishes to— but he can’t. Vegard can’t accept it, he simply can’t.

He leads the next shot of dry gin to his lips and washes it down in a big gulp. The liquid burns his insides as it slides down his throat, and once it reaches his stomach, Vegard places the empty glass over the surface of the bar.

Then, he asks for another shot.

And another.

He feels Magnus’ eyes on him after he swallows every shot without even flinching. His friend is probably judging him in silence, and Vegard can’t truly blame him for that. He’s mindlessly emptying the small glasses in quick motions, feeling lighter and lighter with each shot. Nevertheless, Magnus doesn’t comment on it. It’s no secret alcohol kicks in very fast for Vegard, he can easily get tipsy after drinking a couple of beers, let alone any other strong liquor. Despite that, Vegard wouldn’t mind getting a bit tipsy today. It might be just what he needs.

He retrieves another bill from his wallet when someone pats his back a couple of times. The touch is enough for Vegard to know it isn’t his brother, and it’s enough for him not to get too excited about it. Instead, Vegard sees the bartender taking the money, and not many seconds pass by until the man with the tiger stripes covered arm places another shot of dry gin before him.

“Oh, are we celebrating already?”

Still sat on the stool, Vegard turns to his right to meet Calle’s face, who now stands between Magnus and himself. The straight and shoulder-length hair is neatly in place, and Calle carries a friendly smile on his face. Vegard gets it, they pulled out an amazing episode of their TV show and it’d be just right to feel proud about it. And yet, Vegard can’t bring himself to feel that content. Calle passes his left arm around Magnus’ shoulders, holding a glass full of beer in his right hand.

“You didn’t wait for me, Vegard!” He exclaims with glee, immediately holding the beer at him. “Let me join you. Cheers!”

Mindlessly, Vegard picks the shot of dry gin off the bar and clashes it against Calle’s beer. The soft sound of the glasses clashing against each other match the soft giggle coming from his friend before he takes a long sip from his drink. Vegard accompanies him, once again washing down the spirituous drink.

“Did you guys find a table?” Magnus asks.

“Oh, yes, that’s why I’m here,” Calle utters, licking the beer foam off his upper lip. “Come on,” he urges, patting Magnus’ shoulder and giving Vegard a flash look. “Bård’s already there.”

After giving another thankful nod at the bartender, politely telling him to keep the change, Vegard gets to his feet. He takes the leather jacket off his lap and carelessly throws it over his left shoulder, avoiding eye contact with his friends. Magnus follows his motion almost immediately, promptly standing up and forcing Calle’s arm to slip off his shoulders.

They move to their table. Confirming Vegard’s suspicions, their booth is tucked on the furthest corner of the room. Calle leads the way for them, passing by some taken tables with young and jubilant people. Vegard doesn’t look at them as he walks, his eyes roam across the place until they find the mass of dirty blond hair he knows so well. A wide lamp hangs on the next booth, casting its yellowish light onto his brother’s back. He knows the alcohol has started to kick in the second his steps become swifter, his legs and arms feeling lighter as he advances further.

Getting closer, Vegard instantly understands why Calle carries a pint of beer with him already. There are three beers placed on top of the round table, a small basket filled with peanuts by their side. Apparently, they’ve already taken care of asking for the first round of beers.

“I was wondering what the hell was taking you so long,” Bård exclaims once they make their presence on the place. Even if he’s feeling a bit tipsy, Vegard can notice the bother in Bård’s voice is fake. “I aged up about ten years waiting for you.”

“Oh, nothing important…” Calle waves at him with his free hand. “Just that your brother started to celebrate without us!”

With a puzzled expression, Bård stands up from his seat. He wears a striped shirt, the one that Vegard has always liked on him, and light jeans that somehow make him look taller. Some strands of the dirty blond hair are tucked behind his ears, yet it refuses to stay in place while Bård moves. Breezily, Vegard observes him from head to toe for a moment, unsure what it is he’s looking for. The messy eyebrows are comically furrowed together, his thin yet inviting lips twisted into a curious sneer. Vegard wishes he could lean in and kiss the smirk off his face.

Nonetheless, it’s both a combination of Calle walking in front of him to drop down on the booth and Bård’s sweet voice what makes him snap out of the trance that is studying his brother’s clean features. Vegard is left blinking several times, trying to regain his composure, unsure of how long he’s been holding onto the border of the table for better support.

“Have you?” Bård asks briefly, narrowing his eyes.

“Not really,” Vegard replies while he slips on the booth next to Magnus. He knows what Bård is trying to say with that cocked eyebrow: _are you drinking when you were the one who didn’t want to come?_ Yeah, that’s exactly what the other asks without the need of words. “Just something to start the night with.”

“Okay, then, but let’s start already, now that we’re all here. It’s Magnus’ turn to be the designed and responsible driver for tonight,” Bård informs as he distributes the beers on the table. “I am not drinking much tonight, either.”

Calle chuckles. “What? Are you suddenly a chicken? Afraid to get a bit drunk, Ylvisåker?”

Before the other has time to reply, Calle leans closer to him, digging his elbow into Bård’s ribs. Vegard pretends he doesn’t cringe at the proximity between the two and chooses to focus on something else. He blinks, realising he’s got a pint full of beer at his disposition now. He looks down at the foam, concentrating on its appearance. Beer has never been part of his favourite drinks, yet he still takes it in hand and gives a long sip, letting the bitterness wash down his throat. It’s colder than the gin, yet it doesn’t burn half a much, only leaves an unpleasant taste in his whole mouth once it’s slid down.

“See?” Calle speaks again, pointing at Vegard with a thumb whilst he assumes a straight position once more. “Vegard knows what I’m talking about.”

In fact, Vegard isn’t truly paying attention to Calle’s words, but he still nods politely as he places the drink back on the table. He registers the sounds, but he chooses not to give them any meaning. His hands clasp together around the beer, enjoying the cold of the small drops that roll down the side of the glass. His thumbs caress the slippery surface of the drink, but his eyes are back on the friendly display from across the table. They have always been this friendly, haven’t they? It’s not something that has only happened today, Calle and Bård are close friends and they behave as such. Vegard understands that, and yet, he now cannot relax in their company, cannot stop thinking about it.

He hates it, hates not being able to bear the way Calle’s easy words bring honest smiles to Bård’s face, hates being so utterly helpless when it comes to controlling his emotions. He tears his gaze off them with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, exhaling loudly. His fingers keep stroking the cold glass in his grip, and he wishes nothing more than drinking the whole thing only to ask for another.

It’s only when Magnus speaks at his side that he does his best to push the bitterness away. That’s the least he can do if he doesn’t want to ruin everyone’s night.

“A toast,” Magnus suggests, raising his glass in the air and getting everyone’s attention. “To a successful season.”

“And to the future success,” Calle continues with a kind expression, nodding towards Magnus. “For there will be many more.”

“And to us,” Bård adds, eyes locked with Vegard.

There seems to be much more into his words that Vegard feels his own heartbeat in his throat. He knows Bård’s words mean more than just the people present at the table, that he’s not only making a toast to the crew, but to them— to _Ylvis_. For an instant, it is as if fractions of their whole careers flash in front of Vegard’s eyes. Memories from the time they started on television to when they wrote their fourth play for theatres. He finds it hard to believe all the success they’ve had in the last decade, both in Norway and internationally —because he can’t overview the fame that _The Fox_ brought to them—. It’s been a fun and odd ride filled with unexpected offers, ever from the start. And it would’ve never been possible without Bård.

For a brief instant, Vegard decides to forget about his current worries and concentrate on the calming blue of his brother’s eyes. Even more memories replay in his mind. Bård smiling at him with chocolate on the corner of his mouth, Bård pressing his nose to the inside of his neck as the two curl up together, Bård’s lips meeting his own for the first time and dissipating all the doubts from his mind. There are so many thoughts plaguing his head that Vegard suddenly feels overwhelmed, memory after memory carrying their own emotional bargain and crowding Vegard’s mind. He loves Bård so much, he wishes he could say out loud just how much, just how proud he is of everything they have achieved together.

If Vegard could say it without sounding completely cheesy, he’d propose a toast to Bård.

But he can’t. This isn’t the place, this isn’t the time.

And perhaps it would never be.

“Here’s to us,” he echoes instead, his glass joining the others in the air with a soft crash. “Cheers.” 

There’s a spark in Bård’s eye that is enough to know he understands the meaning of Vegard’s words. But it only lasts a second. Four pints of beer crash together, and soon the friends are drinking up from their own glasses. Unlike the rest, Vegard drinks up until there’s no beer left on his glass, throat cold and raspy from drinking the bitter alcohol. When he puts the empty pint on the table, Vegard’s eyes catch a glimpse of Calle’s arm circling Bård’s shoulder for a brief instant as he also finishes his beer. Bård smiles lightheartedly at him while he tucks a long straight of hair behind his ear, and Vegard’s heart breaks a little.

Just as he forces himself to look away, Vegard realises that night promises to be long.

In between all the chatting, it doesn’t take them long for a round of beers to become two, and two to become three. Both Bård and Magnus have turned beers down on the third round, leaving the older two drinking alone and choosing to drink soda instead.

After a while, Vegard seems to gets lost in the conversation, finding more interest on trying to estimate the amount of peanuts on the basket before him than on the current topic of their chat. Usually, he can go hours and hours talking about music, or practically any other topic —as long as it isn’t sports—. He simply likes to share his views on various themes. When they are on their own, Bård and him rarely run out of topics to discuss, for little they might look like. Even the most irrelevant thing is able to light up a cheerful conversation between them. And when the two do keep silent, it isn’t awkward nor unpleasant, just a needful instant of quietness that they both like to have every now and then.

However, Vegard feels nothing he can say will be of great value or as interesting as Calle’s remarks are— a problem he’s never had in the past. He should not compare himself to their friend, their personalities are unique and not very similar, but Vegard doesn’t know how to stop. He studies everything in silence, comparing from the way Calle’s elbows are digging on the table back to his own arms that are crossed on top of the table, from his long, light hair to Vegard’s thick, dark curls.

Why does he feel so unattractive all of the sudden?

“Earth to Vegard!” Calle shouts in his face. “Have you heard my question?”

He blinks. “What?”

“Wouldn’t you fuck Bård if he had boobs?”

Vegard nearly chokes on a peanut as he registers Calle’s question. At what point did their conversation about music take such a wild twist? He coughs uncomfortably and turns towards his friend, who carries a blank expression plastered on his face. Calle must be the only person in the world who can ask that question with air of seriousness.

“ _What!?_ ”

“I know,” Magnus chimes in, shaking his head in disapproval. “He’s crazy.”

“Don’t listen to him, Vegard,” Calle says, raising his hand with the index finger up, trying to make his point clearer. “Just— picture female Bård. Short, tight skirt, all curves, big boobs, and the ass of— well, he’s got a nice ass already.”

“Thank you, Calle,” Bård replies and pats Calle’s shoulder. Vegard only tightens the grip on the crystal glass.

“You’re welcome,” the oldest of the four of them says. “Back to my question, wouldn’t you want to fuck him then? We do need your vote, because I said yes and Magnus said no. Your vote is decisive.”

Vegard knows he is only joking, lightening the atmosphere around them a little bit, but he cannot avoid feeling a bit annoyed by Calle’s words. Has Calle been looking at Bård? At his butt? Maybe Vegard is right thinking there is more to read into that kiss they shared. The possessiveness takes over his body at the mere thought of Calle checking him out.

As he feels his blood starting to boil under his skin, Vegard also realises his face is heating up with the thought of Bård in a skirt. The angry thoughts are slowly overshadowed by images of Bård looking seductively at him, a product of his own imagination. He doesn’t even picture Bard with boobs or curves, he closes his eyes for a mere second and gets the image of his brother in a short, plaid skirt, and his heartbeat increases. Jesus, by the way his cheeks feel burning up he must be blushing furiously.

_I’m not drunk enough for this._

“Bård’s my brother,” is his short response.

Calle rolls his eyes. “Yeah, no shit, Vegard. Forget about that for a second and answer me truthfully.”

Slowly, Vegard’s eyes move from his friend’s face in search for his brother’s. There’s a small smile hid by the glass of soda Bård holds in front of his face. Vegard doesn't know whether he is focused on the thin drops of water rolling down the outline of the glass or on the traces of smile that Vegard is able to get a glimpse of; the cheeks up, thin lips curved upwards, wrinkles on the corner of his eyes. _Why does he have to be so gorgeous?_ Their eyes meet, and Bård wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at Vegard, causing the blush to spread to his neck and colour his entire face. He hopes Calle and Magnus think it’s due to the alcohol present on his body, but he knows, oh, he knows Bård is more than aware of what’s going on in his mind.

“So?” Calle pushes him for an answer, drawing the small basket filled with peanuts closer to himself. “I’m waiting.”

“I don’t know, Calle…”

“But I do,” Bård says instead, placing the soda back on the table and folding his arms on his chest. Within seconds, all of the men present on the table have their eyes set on Bård, each one with a different expression on their face. While Magnus looks indifferent, Calle has an amused smirk on his face, both eyebrows up in expectation, and Vegard can only stare at his brother with a furrowed brow while he tries to ignore the drop of sweat rolling down his neck. “Vegard is too shy to admit it, but he totally would like to.”

Has he bitten the inside of his cheek so hard he drew blood, or is his imagination playing some sort of trick on him? Vegard straightens on the booth, blinking as his eyes keep glued to his brother’s blue. Has he really said that? Bård carries a cheeky grin that immediately brings colour to Vegard’s cheeks. He also registers the sound of Calle’s chuckles and Magnus repeating _‘no’_ about three times before breaking into laughter.

Bård’s face remains frozen with the same expression that suggests there’s more into his words than a joke to please their friends. It’s the usual not-sure-if-flirting-or-not kind of comment that’s gotten usual on their relationship for a while now, the kind that leaves Vegard both frustrated and wanting to continue in search for more. But this time there’s more than just a flirtatious tone. Has Bård noticed how uncomfortable Vegard is in his seat? Is this his way of trying to lift up his spirits? If yes, Bård knows him too well. Those comments do have a favourable impact on him, even if slightly.

They usually throw those sneaky inputs when the two of them are in company of people who would never dare to think there might be some truth in all the teasing, people who have somehow gotten used to it. It’s quite normal, and neither of them object against it, but today, the words make him a little  bit sad. Vegard usually both hates and loves their flirty comments, but he knows they’re playing with fire by doing that.

He knows they can’t kiss, he knows he can’t desire to touch his brother in ways brothers shouldn’t touch, he knows he can’t, but oh, how he does. Vegard wants Bård, every bit of him. There’s nothing he wants more than to press his lips against Bård’s, to hold him close as they sleep, to hold his hand without feeling guilty. But they can’t kiss, they can’t touch, no matter how much they want to. They can’t keep stepping in and out of that thin line, the same line Vegard promised not to cross again.

And yet, there seems to be a force that keeps bringing the two of them together over and over again, and Vegard isn’t able to control it.

“Would I?” Vegard utters in a very distinguished american accent, lifting an eyebrow in a suggestive manner. It’s an act he puts for his brother, especially because Bård _knows_ the answer to that question.

“Of course you would,” he remarks, sipping from his soda. His tongue flashes over his upper lip for a moment, and Vegard stares straight at him. “I’m your brother, I know you.”

 _Yeah, you do_ , Vegard thinks, keeping his mouth shut. He doesn’t trust himself enough to keep playing this game, not when his tongue feels tingly and he doesn’t trust any other comments holding double meanings that only Bård would understand. Instead, Vegard leans back on the booth, faking out one of those chuckles that makes his voice sound huskier than usual. His eyes remain on Bård’s blue for a moment, and they challenge him to keep playing this little flirtatious game, but he can’t. He can’t and it feels awful, because Vegard loves having their own cheeky and encrypted way of communicating. However, his heart feels less weary when the challenging gleam on Bård’s eye changes to one of understanding.

“In fact,” Bård speaks again, all eyes on the table drawn to him once more. Rather than speaking directly at Vegard as he did before, he now takes his time to stare at all three of them. Bård knows how not to raise any suspicion. “I bet that if I was a woman any of you would try to get into my pants without hesitation.”

“Quite an ego you’ve got there,” Calle points out with a lopsided grin, and proceeds to move closer to Bård on the booth. By the way his arm falls behind Bård’s back, Vegard guesses he must be grabbing his brother’s hip. It’s something painful to see. Vegard grills his teeth as his eyes set on the oldest friend. “But you’re right, I’d definitely try to get into your pants.”

That’s it.

That’s enough for him.

Vegard doesn’t want to keep witnessing this.

“I’m gonna go get another beer,” he informs as he stands up from the booth, surprised to lose his balance so easily. After throwing the jacket over his shoulder, the hand holds the empty glass and shakes it, and the other grabs the corner of their table to regain his balance. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, be a dear a bring another round for us! I’m gonna make your brother drink at least another one!” Calle shouts as he’s ready to turn around. “And more soda for Magnus.”

“Will do,” Vegard assures him shortly before finally heading off.

His steps feel even lighter than before, yet he doesn’t care for finding something to hold on to. In hope to forget about Calle’s words, Vegard’s peripheral vision serves him to do a quick scan across the place. There are less tables occupied than when they first walked into the establishment, but there’s a constant in all of them; smiles and laughter. Vegard wishes he could share some of those. Instead, he straightens his back and hastens his steps, moving swiftly across the tables until he reaches the bar.

In there, he notices the atmosphere is quite different. Things are more chill, time seems to go by way more slowly. Strangers sit on the other stools by the bar, yet Vegard doesn’t make any attempt on establishing any kind of conversation with them. Some of them look lonely, other are looking for company. Vegard wonders in which group he fits.

The same hazel eyed bartender approaches him in little time, asking him if he wants another shot of gin. Vegard says yes, handing him the money. He empties it quickly, and asks for another. There isn’t really a reason to keep replying the moment in his mind, but Vegard can’t avoid it, can’t stop thinking he should let go of Bård. What will happen when Bård realises he wants to settle down with someone, marry some girl, or boy? What will Vegard do, then, if he can barely keep it together now?

He drinks the second shot as soon as it’s placed on the wooden surface, causing the bartender to lift his eyebrows in surprise. Vegard doesn’t really need to ask for another, the blond man pours some more into his shot before turning away. However, this time Vegard’s gaze fall on the alcohol before bringing it to his lips. Where did all go wrong? How has it reached the point that he’s starting to hate seeing Bård smile to _someone_ — not just someone, one of his best friends? Vegard feels disgusted at himself for the being so possessive, as if Bård was his to claim. That’s not who he wants to be.

Embarrassment builds up on his insides, mixing with the guilt. He needs to stop thinking about it. Placing a bill on the counter, Vegard asks for another shot, and this time the bartender cracks a smile at him before pouring the transparent liquid into his glass. He’s lost count of how many he’s drank that night, but does he truly care? Vegard is beyond minding the way it burns his throat. He chuckles to himself as he moves the shot between his thumb and index, thoughts going back to Bård, and Bård alone. He decides to leave Calle aside, because there’s no point on caring whether it’s Calle or Magnus or a pretty girl named Louise— Vegard doesn’t want anyone by his side. He wants to occupy that place and so much more.

He wants to be worthy of Bård’s affection, he wants to touch him, hug him, kiss him and—

“Hey there, buddy.” Two strong hands fall on his shoulders, squeezing lightly at the stern and tense muscles. The sudden contact surprises Vegard, and he tenses. “Vodka, huh?”

With conflicted emotions, Vegard looks up from the shot in his hand. Bård, _beautiful_ Bård stares down at him with a look that holds part worry and part amusement. But there’s a small curve on his lips that gives him away. Vegard leads his free hand to rest on top of his brother’s, and squeezes it without giving much thought about it. He doesn’t mind for the bartender’s prying eyes —which he knows are on them—, Vegard simply needs the contact right now. Bård’s knuckles feel soft under his touch, and he caresses them for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

“Gin,” he replies shortly. “I’m going back in a few. This is the last one.”

Bård snorts back a laughter. “I know you good enough to know this isn’t the first time you’ve said that.”

“It’s fine, Bård. Just go back to Calle—…” He snorts, eyes moving to the bright bottles over the shelves behind the bar. So many shapes and colours distract him, and he’s only able to tell apart the bottles of whiskey from the rest. Vegard clears his throat. “To Calle and Magnus.”

“Only if you come back with me. Calle’s whining you haven’t brought him his beer yet.”

Vegard swallows hard, feeling a sting of pain in his heart. “Is that why you’re here?” He asks, retrieving his hand from Bård’s. “To make sure he has his beer?”

“No,” Bård replies plainly. “I’m here to make sure you come back with me.”

“Why? I thought you were having a great time with Calle back there.”

“Yeah, with Calle, Magnus…” He says in a low voice, a tone that gets to Vegard’s spine. “…and with _you_.” Now in silence, Bård squeezes both of his shoulders sympathetically before letting go. Vegard longs for the touch, but he doesn’t know how to make it come back. His fingers are idly playing with the surface of the wooden bar, and Bård steps at his side, leaning closer to him as his elbow rests on the bar. “Seriously, Vegard, what has gotten into you?”

Looking up from his own hands, Vegard’s breath gets caught in his throat. Bård’s eyes are piercing, and he feels exposed under his gaze. Of course Bård would notice his odd behaviour, but Vegard has been thinking— _hoping_ his brother would already know what is it that’s been bothering him. Because that’s how things between them usually work, isn’t it? Bård’s supposed to know him better than anyone else, Bård is supposed to use  his intuition and understand what’s in Vegard’s mind. Bård is supposed to _understand_. But apparently, tonight things don’t work as custom.

Lost for words, Vegard struggles to reply. Can he truly say what’s in his mind? Can he tell Bård the way he feels whenever Calle touches him? Or looks at him? Can he explain it without sounding blatantly jealous? _No_ , Vegard tells himself, _he’d think I’m crazy_. Because that’s what Vegard is— crazy. Bård has urged him to be together in the past, but Vegard declined. Who in his right mind would do something like that? Who would refuse the love of their life? _Me, because I’m stupid_ , he muses to himself. Rather than speaking his mind, he plays with the glass between his fingers, spinning in counter-clockwise motions.

“I’m just tired,” Vegard mumbles, avoiding the penetrating gaze. “I’ve told you already.”

Bård hums. “I know what tiredness looks like. You’re not tired, Vegard, why are you lying to me?”

Tapping his fingers to a nameless tune playing in his head, Vegard hesitates before answering. There are marks on the wooden bar, water stains that have probably gotten there by careless men drinking beer. There’s a hand back on his shoulder, and Vegard loves the heat coming from it. Bård rarely is this touchy with anyone else, and that makes him feel quite special. Because he is special, isn’t he? Vegard has always feel so thankful for being with Bård, for sharing the tight bond they do. And right now, as his tongue feels funny and his hands cold, he wishes the two could be alone so he could tell Bård just how much he wants him close.

Vegard’s eyes drift back to Bård’s, to the kindness in them. He studies his whole face for a moment. His emotions keep swirling on his insides, changing and turning their directions, confusing him to no end. Slowly, he blinks, taking in the imagery before him. Bård is so beautiful, Vegard feels taken aback by it. The striped shirt he wears makes him look stunning that evening, and the way his hair keeps falling on his face in spite of being tucked behind his ears is rather adorable. Vegard loves his hair, loves running his fingers through it and feeling its softness underneath his fingertips, loves to feel Bård purring softly as he caresses it. He wants to reach for it, to ruffle his hair and put it back in place, to tangle his fingers in the blond mass. Why can’t he go for it?

“I’m not lying,” Vegard offers, and grins at Bård, who rubs his thumb on Vegard’s shoulder. It’s a tender caress that makes the older brother suppress a loving smile. He wants to lean his cheek against his brother’s hand, but he holds back. “Let’s not talk about that. Please.”

“Okay.” Bård blinks, his expressions softens. “But come back to the booth with me? Don’t be out here all alone.”

In response, Vegard offers him a small nod. There’s no point on fighting against his brother, especially when the blond Ylvisåker is famous for being quite stubborn. Plus, deep down he knows he wants to be in Bård’s company, regardless of the jealousy that takes over him whenever Calle looks at him. After taking the decision, Vegard leads the shot to his lips, enjoying the cold of the glass against his lips. He throws his head back and takes the shot of dry gin again. His throat feels numb once it slides down his walls, already too numb to find it unpleasant. Done with it, he places the empty glass on the counter, leading his hands back to his lap.

“You done?” Bård asks in a playful manner, yet when Vegard looks back at him, he notices he’s wrinkling his nose. Bård looks adorable when he does that.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, setting his feet on the ground. “Let’s go.”

Bård offers him a small, understanding nod while he takes a step back, probably to give Vegard more room to get to his feet. Following his plans, Vegard’s left hand grabs tightly the leather jacket that’s been resting over his thighs, whilst the other has a firm grip on the wooden counter. Perhaps Vegard stands up too quickly, because his knees feel wobbly when he tries to straighten his back. He registers Bård’s comical chuckles before he feels two strong hands helping him stand up.

“Good?”

Vegard affirms with a low hum. “Yeah, don’t worry.”

“Okay,” Bård says. “Let me ask for the beers.”

In response, Vegard only focuses on keeping his balance. His arms and legs feel weightless, and he hiccups involuntarily as he stares at his brother’s profile. How can lips move so gracefully? How can a voice be so beautiful? Vegard finds himself examining all of his factions thoroughly. He licks his now chapped lips, craving for one of the two beers the tattooed bartender hands Bård. Or is he craving for the man that holds them? Vegard chuckles. Without a warning, Bård turns back at him, and the brothers share a flash look.

They make their way back to the booth with rushed steps, their shoulders constantly  brushing as they walk. There’s no need for Vegard to look around them, the strangers on the tables seem meaningless when the person that means the world to him walks at his side. His feet move at the same pace of Bård’s, and the two reach their booth in little time.

“Two beers?” Calle whines when they’re back. “Oh, come on, Bård! I wanted you to drink another beer.”

“You can’t always get what you want,” his brother replies.

 _Oh, don’t I know that?_ Vegard thinks to himself.

After speaking, Bård places both beers on the table and sits back on his side of the booth. Vegard’s eyes set on his friends, and once Bård sits, Calle goes back to explain something at a very tired-looking Magnus. Vegard stares at them for a brief moment, registers his brother's voice joining the conversion. His chest aches deeply as Bård’s attention is drawn back to Calle, and without thinking twice about it, Vegard falls immediately by his brother’s side rather than sitting back beside Magnus. He’s driven by his own needs of having his brother close rather than common sense. Cocking an eyebrow, Bård looks at him as he giggles. Without complaining about it, he forces Calle to scoot over while Vegard settles at his side, but as Calle doesn’t move much himself, the brothers practically end up bundling together in the limited space.

Vegard smiles shortly to himself as he brings the pint of beer closer. It’s good, completely pleasant to be so close. Their thighs press together, and Bård’s body heat is pleasant to have. He closes his hands around the pint of beer. All of the sudden, the lack of physical contact in the past couple of years hits Vegard. He remembers how their hands used to be around each other all the time, especially during their teen years. It was common to see them hugging, cuddling on the couch or using the other’s shoulder to rest their heads on. And now, whenever the two are in public, their touches have been reduced to friendly pats on the back or a hand over the other’s shoulder. It makes him crave for Bård’s body warmth, for the electricity created whenever their skin makes contact. Vegard’s thigh presses closer to Bård’s and the contact burns through the fabric of their jeans.

The discussion on the table has turned into a vivid chat about different kind of cheese around the world, but in spite of the interesting facts Vegard would like to say, he keeps quiet. Instead, an ingenious idea pops into his mind. While one of his hands is firmly grabbing the crystal glass, the other falls under the table. No one will notice, anyway, and he just needs to know Bård’s there with him, not with Calle. Slowly, his hand moves from his own thigh to set on top of Bård’s, squeezing lightly once he’s there.

While Vegard drinks from his beer, Bård immediately turns to look at him. The smile on his brother’s face morphs into a curious smirk.

“Vegard?”

He licks the foam off his upper lip. “Yes?”

After he speaks, no other words come from his mouth, but Bård’s blue eyes leave Vegard’s and trail down to where his hand rests. It’s a curious look, and yet, Vegard doesn’t let go. He longs for the contact and even if he knows he shouldn’t touch Bård so suggestively, he can’t force himself to retrieve the hand off him.

A couple of second pass by, and Bård’s gaze sets back on his own.

“Everything okay?” Bård asks nicely.

“Yeah,” Vegard replies, and he ventures his hand to grab Bård’s thigh firmer. “All’s good.”

“Good, because I hate to see you stressed,” Bård adds in a lower tone, winking at him before turning back at the conversation between Calle and Magnus.

The words leave Vegard feeling funnier than before, the dizziness that made his limbs lighter now spreading to his whole body. Oh, Bård sure knows how to calm him down.

After that, time seems to pass by way too fast.

It might have something to do with having his hand on Bård, making sure his brother is there with him. Added to that is the fact that Bård keeps glancing at him with a smile, that smile that makes Vegard’s heart fasten and his lips to curve into a similar grin. He loves that smile, he loves that face, he loves that man.

As the minutes fly, Vegard finds himself drinking beer after beer, and trying to pretend it doesn’t hurt when Bård laughs out loud at Calle’s jokes.

The only thing for him to do is keep drinking and listening to the cheerful conversations, keeping his inputs short and at their lowest. He doesn’t spend the greatest time of his life as he sits and drinks, but he tries to stay put. And even as minutes turn into hours, he doesn’t let go of Bård’s thigh until the end of the night.

 

* * *

 

Vegard’s intentions are to gently knock on the door in front of him, yet he ends up mercilessly slamming his fist over the surface three times before realising what he’s doing. The loud banging has probably woken up some of the people on the top floor, yet no curses are shouted at him. He takes a step back onto the narrow hallway, though his feet fail on him and he almost clumsily falls backwards, so, rather than losing his balance, he lurches himself forward until he’s able to rest his right shoulder on the doorframe and support his whole body weight on it. He wants to see Bård, wants to hear his voice and feel his warm and smooth skin under his fingertips. Vegard’s body starts sliding down the white frame of the door until he is forced to duck on the ground. It’s too difficult to stay in that position, so Vegard grabs the cold doorframe at his back and helps himself to sit on his ass. The floor is mildly cold, but Vegard doesn’t really mind, he actually feels a bit dizzy from the sudden movements.

He might have drank what was left of a bottle of vodka back at his place after he got out of the cab. In the end, Bård and him shared a taxi on their way back, leaving Magnus to drive Calle back to his house, since their tallest friend was crashing there for the night. It was easier than making him drive them to the other end of the city. Plus, Vegard felt better being with Bård alone, for a change.

When he was on his own, Vegard’s mood didn’t improve much. The crystal bottle had been staying there on the top cupboard for months now, so it was only logical Vegard finally finished it by drinking straight from the mouth of the bottle. Being alone only meant he had more time to think. And oh, he’s been thinking a lot since then, his brain hasn’t given him time to rest, always bringing up the events of the day. And it’s not only that, he reckons, his mind does a hell of a good job bringing up all of the friendly interactions between Calle in his brother in the past months— _years_ , even. Has he truly been so blind?

Whether he waits for a few seconds or more than five minutes is uncertain, but when the door opens to reveal a sleepy Bård, he can’t help himself but smile at him. Bård wears a white tank top with an open hoodie that matches his dark sweatpants. In the dimness of the hallway it’s hard to tell whether they’re navy blue or dark green, yet regardless of the colour the clothes might be, Bård looks like an angel. There’s a faint brightness coming from the inside of his apartment that acts just as a halo, his silhouette the only thing Vegard has eyes for.

“Vegard?” He mumbles with a husky voice, rubbing his left eye.

“Bård,” he breathes out, stretching an arm to grab his brother’s free hand in his own, rubbing his thumb up and down the back of his palm as he stares up at his sleepy face. “Hi, Bård.”

“What are you doing?”

He cocks his head. “Sitting.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he retorts as he stares down at him. “But what the hell are you doing here?”

“Not happy to see me?”

“It’s 3 AM,” he asserts cheekily, yet he doesn’t try to wave Vegard’s hand away. That’s a good sign. “I’m not happy to have my eyes open.”

Vegard arches his eyebrows upwards. Oh, right, he had forgotten how late it was when he finally set his mind up and decided to look for him. Part of him truly regrets turning down Bård’s offer of staying over at Vegard’s once the cab stopped right outside his apartment. He looked at Vegard with those bright eyes full of care and there was no way of saying _‘yes, please, stay with me’_ without sounding absurdly clingy. Instead, Vegard politely declined while he paid his goodbyes and got off the cab, closing the door behind him and walking away. The cab only drove away when he was inside the lobby.

“Maybe I should— uh, should go now. Definitely. I gotta go.”

“What?” Bård’s right hand drops from his face and falls loosely to his side. Vegard wants to let go of him in order to take the elevator to the apartment lobby, but Bård’s hand feels so good in his own that he finds it impossible to give up on that. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“But you don’t want me here,” he says out loud, and it hurts more than he expected it to. It’s true, Bård doesn’t want him in there, he should get going. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be here.”

“I never said I don’t want you here, it’s just that it’s really late, Vegard, I— _we_ should be sleeping. But you’re here already, so come on.” Bård ducks by his side and Vegard stares into his eyes, blue lakes he so dearly adores. “Let’s get you on your feet.”

“Bård, you don’t want me here…”

“Stop saying that,” he hisses in exasperation, shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant, Vegard, just—…”

His voice fades as he gets a bit closer. Bård moves gracefully, it’s hard for Vegard to concentrate in one thing at the time when Bård’s hand is letting go of his own to make Vegard’s arm wrap around his shoulders. He smiles at Bård in spite of the trace of sadness present on his insides, and soon he feels Bård’s arm circling around his waist to help Vegard get to his feet. His legs are a bit wobbly as he stands up, but Bård holds him in place, grip both steady and gentle.

“Okay?” Bård asks him, brows lifted in a kind, understanding expression.

“Yeah.”

With a brief nod, his little brother walks the two of them inside his apartment and closes the door behind them. Vegard’s sensitive eyes scan the place, all lights out but for the lamp in the living room. The place is all in order but for the common mess that isn’t too chaotic. Some jackets left over the back of chairs, magazines and random papers splattered over the surface of the table, two pairs of shoes near the small hallway that leads to Bård’s bedroom. Vegard knows Bård’s place as well as he knows his own, but for a moment he turns around to take a peek at one of the papers lying on the dining table. Before he gets the chance to read what’s written on it, Vegard feels strangely dizzy all of the sudden, so he swallows hard and closes his eyes shut for a moment. He can’t throw up again.

 _Breathe in, breathe out_. He feels the fingers of Bård’s hand circling around his wrist, a tight and familiar grip that feels scalding hot where their skin makes contact. His brother makes him feel more stable as they step forward, yet the dizziness prevails.

His feet move as Bård leads the way for him, and the white light is closer and closer with every step they take. Bård’s hand keeps a strong hold on his hips, yet Vegard is sure he can walk in by himself and follow Bård to the couch, only if there’s something he can hold on to, so he allows his brother to move him as he pleases. _One, two, three, four, five_ , Vegard counts in his mind when he opens his eyes and stares down at his shoes. Five steps is all it takes them to reach the grey, comfortable couch that has been used as a double bed for a couple of nights in the past. He lands safely on the comfortable cushions, his brother sitting by his side in a similar manner. Bård untangles his arm from Vegard’s waist, and Vegard does the same, retrieving his own from Bård’s shoulders.

“You okay?” Bård asks, concern noticeable in his voice. “Tell me you didn’t drive here.”

Vegard huffs. Who does Bård take him for? “Of course I didn’t drive here.”

“Took a cab?”

“Walked.”

“ _Walked,_ ” Bård echoes as he nods, though there isn’t any sign of surprise in his voice. As his brother looks down to where his hands cross, Vegard studies his face under the clear light of the lamp, desperately wanting to know what he’s thinking about. The blue eyes soon meet his own, and he feels the air has been punched out of his lungs. “Where’s your key, anyway? Didn’t you bring it?”

Vegard reaches into his left pocket and pulls out two different key-chains. “Who d’you take me for, huh?”

“Then why did you have to be so fucking loud?” Bård inquires with a chuckle, lightly punching Vegard’s shoulder. “My front door almost fell.”

Vegard smiles while he puts the keychain back in his pocket, yet he feels the sadness creeping into his bones as he eyes his brother’s face. “I just really wanted to see you.”

The words leave his mouth before Vegard can register what he’s saying. Bård’s expression changes, softens, and Vegard thinks a small smile makes his way on Bård’s beautiful features for an instant.

“I told you I’d go to your place in the morning, Vegard.”

“Yeah, I know…” Vegard remembers the words his brother told him before he closed the door of the cab they shared, but he truly needed to see him, needs to be with him right now. “I couldn’t wait.”

“Hey, is everything okay?” Bård asks softly, a comforting hand falling on top of Vegard’s jeans. “Do you want some water?”

“Yeah,” he accepts his brother’s offer with ease, flicking his tongue over his chapped lips. “That’d be nice.”

Bård hums in acknowledgment before standing up and pacing towards the kitchen. Hell, Vegard shouldn’t really be there, shouldn’t be bothering his brother when they have to be at the office the next day. But the damn thoughts are eating him alive, remembering him over and over again all the glances Calle steals in his brother’s direction, the way his hands seem to love being placed over Bård’s body while the two laugh, in their kiss meeting for a second right across from Vegard. The mere supposition of having to witness something similar again overwhelms him, especially because he knows that Bård will eventually find someone to spend the rest of his days with, and he’ll have to nod and smile and pretend everything is okay when in truth he dies inside every time someone else gets to kiss him.

It’s bound to happen no matter what, no matter how much Vegard wishes he could be the one, and if it’s not Calle, it could be a friend, someone from their childhood, a fucking stranger— Vegard doesn’t really know who, but he knows there must be someone waiting out there for Bård, and there’s nothing he’d like to do more than pretend he’s the one worthy of that title. Because no matter how much they might love Bård, they will never, ever feel the way Vegard feels about him. It kills him inside, over and over again, but all he wants to do now is to remind Bård that his feelings haven’t changed, that Bård was right all those months ago when he said those feelings are never going to fade. If something, they are like a flame burning on his insides impossible to extinguish, only to spread broader and burn eagerly.

“Vegard?” His brother’s voice makes him look up from his lap, finding a glass of water close to his face. Bård is right at his side again, his other hand on Vegard’s lower back. “What’s wrong? I knew you were feeling off back at the bar, but why?”

He kindly accepts the water and takes it in hand, taking a small sip before giving it back to Bård. “I don’t know, Bård. I just can’t stop feeling this way.”

“What way?”

“Like I want to cry but there aren’t tears, want to puke but my stomach is already empty. It’s so frustrating.” He looks away from those piercing blue eyes and tries to compose himself. “But I truly couldn’t stop thinking about it, Bård— why? Of all people, I would’ve never… or maybe I would’ve noticed before if I hadn’t been so fucking blind.”

Bård furrows his brow. “Notice what?”

“That you and him, uh. I just don’t get it, you have never liked— of course, there’s me, I know, but liking him?” Vegard shakes his head. “Never crossed my mind, not in a thousand years.”

“Vegard, I am not understanding a single thing,” Bård says with a frown. “Please, drink this and try to get your thoughts in place.”

“Calle!” He desperately exclaims, causing Bård to place the glass on the table across from the couch. His brother rubs his temples as he stares away, and Vegard can tell he is trying to understand what this is all about. “Calle. Do you like him?”

“What? He’s our friend, of course I—”

“No, no, no, not like that.” He shakes his head once more and reaches to take Bård’s hand off his face. Meeting his eyes makes him better, always does, he needs to look at him to know Bård’s honest response. “Do you fancy him, Bård?”

“Fancy…Calle?”

“Fancy him, love him, fuck him.” He chokes back a sob. “Are you two fucking?”

“What!?”

“Please, answer me, Bård,” he begs, feeling his insides revolting against his will. “I need to—”

“Fuck, no,” Bård interrupts with a big, disgusted frown. “What the fuck?”

“I…today,” Vegard mumbles, forcing himself to look away from Bård’s sharp gaze. “The uh— stuff today, Bård, it just— it made me think there was something going on and—”

“Vegard, you’re not making any sense at all.”

He wishes he could simply open his mouth and the words to flow freely so Bård would be able to understand, but his tongue seems to twist and his throat refuses to cooperate. Vegard feels sorry for bursting out those words instead of asking him calmly, and he wants to tell Bård. He wants to ask him nicely, to explain why he was feeling so uncomfortable with them, why he can’t seem to stop drinking in order to numb the ache. However, he feels the words stuck on his throat and he is left staring at his brother with a hollowness inside.

“But you know what?” Bård speaks, voice clearly calmer than before. “You need to rest, and so do I, so we’ll talk about this in the morning when you’re sober.”

“I am sober.”

“Yeah, and I am _Jan Egeland_.” His brother snorts back a bark of laughter. His right arm loops around Vegard’s waist again, getting a firm grip on him as he forces him to stand up. “Come on, we better get you to the bed, or maybe make you take a shower. I can smell the vodka in your breath. Don’t even try to deny it.”

Without doing so, Vegard indulges, once more allowing Bård to guide his steps. This time he willingly tosses his arm around Bård’s shoulders for better support, though now that he’s finally asked the question, he finds it easier to walk without stumbling on his own feet. Bård still helps him, just as he always does, holding him tight but still gingerly rubbing his fingers on Vegard’s side whenever they come to a stop. They move easily from the living room to the narrow hallway, and Vegard wants to reach for the lamp and turn it off, but Bård doesn’t truly seem to mind, so he lets it be.

The door to Bård’s room is open and he is able to see the messy bed he’s been sleeping in. The white duvet is so thick it can be confused for pillows, and it matches the pale olive green colour of the walls. Two of the pillows are piled up while other two are thrown on the middle of the mattress. Before they can take a step into the bedroom, Vegard comes to a hault. His feet are glued to the ground yet he doesn’t let go of Bård’s shoulders, he simply stands there and waits until his brother turns to look at him with a lifted eyebrow.

“Wait…” he mumbles while he clumsily steps in front of his brother, Bård’s arm slowly sliding off his waist.

For some seconds all Vegard does is stare at his brother. Bård’s face is so close to his and Vegard is entirely captivated by his beauty. He might be able to stare at him for most of the time, something he is incredibly thankful for, but Vegard doesn’t seem to get tired of it. After thinking about it when he was alone, Vegard decides to go for it. He leans in, his hand still on Bård’s arm, and he aims for Bård’s pink lips with his own.

“Hey, whoa—” Bård tilts his head to the left just in time to dodge the kiss and Vegard’s mouth ends up crashing against his cheek, the impact kind of hard and clumsy. It’s actually quite a struggle for him to coordinate his movements, his body goes from feeling completely weightless to being heavy when he tries to move too fast. “Vegard, what are you doing?”

“Kissing you?” He replies in confusion. Hasn’t it been obvious?

“Vegard…”

“Bård, please—” Vegard draws back until they are facing each other, their noses almost brushing. “I want to kiss you.”

“I know you do, Vegard,” Bård utters softly as he draws in a long breath, yet for some reason, the raven haired man feels like tiny needles are piercing his insides. “But we can’t.”

There’s a wordless frighten hastily spreading across Vegard’s body, starting on his ribcage and reaching every corner of his insides. His mouth opens, lower lip trembling as he stares into his brother’s eyes. It hurts, hurts so deeply he finds himself retrieving his arm and hand off Bård with clumsy yet sudden movements, just as if his brother was scalding lava.

“Vegard?” His brother’s voice is full of concern, Vegard is able to notice that, though for some inexplicable reason he can’t shake off the unsteadiness from his insides. “Hey…”

Bård tries to grab his forearm, but he eludes it with a swift swing of his arm. Refusing his brother’s touch has rarely happened in the past, but the bitter ache is greater than his craving for contact. It’s one of those times when he finally understands how the worst kind of pain is the one you get when the person you love is at your side but still out of your reach. He has a urge to cry, to disappear, to leave Bård and try to put his mind in order. Bård doesn’t want to kiss him and while he knows it should be the right thing, nothing has ever ached him that much. Bård doesn’t even want him here.

And, hell, it hurts.

“You don’t want me anymore,” Vegard asserts, and it’s not a question, it’s a fact, his own words hurting him deeply. “You don’t, Bård.”

“Jesus…” His brother’s expression morphs into one of equal pain, and this time when he reaches to take hold of Vegard’s shoulders, the older brother isn’t able to get away. “That’s not true. You’re not making any sense right now, Vegard.”

“You don’t want to kiss me… You don’t.”

Bård chuckles lightly, and Vegard notices his thumbs are rubbing small circles on his shoulders. “I do want to kiss you,” he says, voice soft and caring, “I’ll always want to kiss you. But I can’t, not if you’re drunk.”

There’s enough alcohol in his system to be thrown into jail if he were stopped while driving a car, that much is true, but he feels so lucid as he stands in front of Bård. His senses seem to be sharper: in the darkness he is wholly able to detail all of Bård’s features, feel his skin burning up where he keeps his hold on Vegard’s arms, inhale his brother’s scent, that sweet fragrance he is so dearly fond of, listen to his soothing voice as he tries to analyse his words, to comprehend what he’s saying in spite of the facts. But his mouth— Vegard dies to lean in and savour those lips in his own, to feel the warmth and wetness from his mouth against his own once again. He desperately wants to close the distance, but he can’t do it again, doesn’t have the strength to once he’s been refused once.

“If I were sober…”

“If you were sober and you wanted to kiss me, I’d probably pin you against a wall,” Bård says with ease, a short yet melancholic smile breaking in his face. “But you’re not sober, Vegard, and I can’t do that even if I truly want to. Please, try to understand.”

Vegard blinks, mouth turning completely dry. “But do you? Do you still want me? Because if you don’t…”

“Vegard.”

Bård’s hands slowly slide down Vegard’s arms until they reach his wrists, where he stops for a moment as he caresses his skin. The motions help Vegard ease his latent frighten, making his heartbeat to slow down a couple of paces. Shit, when did his pulse start to race so quickly? Apparently Bård notices, because he instantly reaches a little further down and laces their fingers together, bringing their entwined hands to rest at the level of their chests, right above their hearts.

“Do not doubt my feelings for you,” he mumbles, a small pause between each word. “Not even if you drank a fucking liquor store, Vegard. Stop thinking I don’t want you, because you know just how much I do.”

In a swift movement Bård spins them around, leaving no time for Vegard to reply. All he does is stare at him with eyes in bewilderment, repeating his honest words over and over again in his mind. The sudden movement makes him feel dizzy, but he tries to concentrate on his brother’s features, finding steadiness on them. He wishes they could magically heal the wounds in his heart that were made by the constant overthinking of the events. He wants to believe in Bård, to understand his words and grasp them as his inner mantra. There he is, the boy with the beautiful eyes and honest smile, the one that has grown before Vegard’s eyes, the one whom he would chase stars for, the one that means the world to him.

There he is, connecting their hands together and telling him words that not another soul will hear, confessing his feelings to him once more, yet again, Vegard feels uneasy. He wants to laugh at himself, at his stupidity and ingenuousness and then cry, force out all of the insecurities and distressing thoughts that have been gnawing at him. God, he simply wants to sob his eyes out for hours.

No one ever told him love would hurt this much.

In silence, Bård walks backwards and pulls Vegard with him, the older brother following him close until the two of them are standing beside the unmade bed. Bård lets go of his hands to unbutton his plaid shirt, and Vegard doesn’t stop him. He doesn’t know what to do, he wishes he could turn his back and walk back to his place, try to sleep and forget about today, from the small kiss Bård and Calle shared to the one Bård refused to give him. It pains him, pains him so much that his body feels so numb that when Bård softly pushes him down to the bed he lets himself land softly on the mattress. He shuts his eyes and leads a shaky hand to his head, brushing the black curls off his face and tucking some long curls behind his ears. Vegard feels awful.

When he opens his eyes again it’s to the contact of Bård’s hands on his thighs. His brother ducks in front of him, and his hands move up his thighs to unzip his pants. Vegard wishes his brother would do the same in other occasions, wonders how it would feel to be trembling in lust and expectation as they take each other’s clothes with speed. He’s pictured it many times, but he guesses it will never happen. _Not now, not ever_ , Vegard muses to himself as Bård pulls his pants down. _He doesn’t want to kiss me, let alone fuck me_.

As the thoughts rush through his mind, Bård strips him off his clothes. He gently pulls at the unbuttoned shirt until it slips off his shoulders, Vegard stretches his arms in order to make things easy for him. His gaze is glued to Bård’s face, finding it impossible to look away from him as he works with a small and silent grin. The pants follow soon after Bård unties his boots, so Vegard’s down to his boxers.

“You should definitely take a shower,” Bård says as he looks up at him, hands rubbing up and down Vegard’s naked arms before standing up from the ground. Vegard longs for the contact as soon as Bård lets go of him. “There’s hot water, I could help you—”

“It’s fine, I’ll shower in the morning.”

“Are you sure? It wouldn’t be a problem to—”

“No.” Vegard catches Bård’s hands in his own in a quick movement. He lets himself fall on the mattress, pulling Bård down with him. “I want to sleep.”

Bård chuckles as he falls by his side, their hands intertwined and eyes locked together. The bed is comfortable, as soft as a piece of cloud, his head sinking deep on the thick pillows. Vegard doesn’t want to let go of him, afraid that if he lets go he won’t be able to hold his hands again.

“Hold on, Vegard,” Bård mumbles, thumbs rubbing the back of his hands. “You need to drink some water, at least.”

“You’re gonna go?”

“I’ll be back in a few, don’t worry.”

Bård smiles sympathetically at him before letting go of his hands and standing up from the bed. The tingling sensation lingers on his palms as the spot next to him grows cold. Vegard rolls over to lie on his back, reaching down to pull the duvet over his body, hands clenched on the fabric as he holds it against his chest. Maybe he is being a bit clingy at the moment, but he truly needs Bård, even when the closeness is entitled to hurt him. The pillows and blankets have Bård’s scent impregnated on them, and rather than trying to push all of his thoughts away, he lets the scent of his brother embrace him. It’s intoxicating, so sweet and inviting that it’s impossible to refuse.

As promised, Bård comes back not much later, his long shape passing through the doorway and approaching the other side of the bed once more. Vegard keeps his eyes on him as he strokes the white and cosy duvet under his fingertips, finding it both unsettling and intriguing the way Bård’s expression morphs as he moves across the place. Vegard wonders if he is to blame for the lack of cheerfulness on Bård, but before he can blame himself, he remembers how late in the night it is. His brother keeps his lips pressed into a narrow line as he rummages through some of his personal stuff on the night table, and it’s only when their eyes meet that a smile finds its way into his beautiful face.

“Here,” Bård says as he offers him a glass of water. “Drink as much of it as you can.”

Vegard indulges him, sitting up and grabbing the glass in hand and eyeing his brother as he drinks up. The cold liquid actually refreshes his throat as if slides down, and he drains the whole glass in mere seconds. Has he been thirsty without knowing or is he just nervous?

“Done?” He asks gently, accepting the empty glass and placing it out of Vegard’s visual field. “Want some more?”

Vegard shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

“If you change your mind, there must be a water bottle on the floor somewhere,” Bård comments as he turns the lamp off and turns back to him. Vegard’s eyes work neatly in the dark, so he studies Bård’s smile for as long as it lasts. “Or you can get some in the kitchen. That’d be easier.”

Vegard doesn’t reply, in part because he doesn’t truly know what to say. He lies there, breathing Bård’s scent in, trying to collect his thoughts. The other side of the mattress sinks in, Bård’s weight bringing it down. It’s so hard to accept everything, to think things will be alright. The turmoil in his chest doesn’t allow him to let go of the thoughts, he can’t make them disappear. Vegard eyes Bård as he takes the hoodie off, throwing it to the ground.

Just as Bård gets under the massive duvet next to him, Vegard decides to speak up again. He knows he needs to do it, he can’t keep everything down. Bård has to understand. He rolls back to rest on his right side, facing him and intrinsically moving closer to his larger body. His brother doesn’t back away, and if something, he gets more comfortable beside Vegard, miming his position.

“U-uh…” He stammers, refusing to blink as he fears the warmth in his eyes might be tears. “Bård?”

“Hmm?”

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know?” Vegard mumbles, swallowing hard the big lump on his throat. “If you don’t feel the same anymore, you can tell me, I…I’d understand. For you, I’d do it.”

It hurts so much more to hear it out loud, even when the words come out of his own mouth. Because it’s true. Vegard would die inside to find out Bård doesn’t feel the same, selfish as it sounds, but he’d understand, he’d try to accept his brother’s wishes if it came to that. He must be an awful human being for desiring all of Bård’s affection to himself when they are not together, when there isn’t a knot tying them together in a romantic way. They’re not exclusive, they’re not a couple, and Vegard is conscious of that and so much more. He wants to cry from frustration, his body starting to shake even under the covers, too many emotions swimming to the surface and crawling into his skin.

With a heavy heart and cold, trembling body, he waits in silence for the devastating confirmation of his sudden fears. In spite of the sad scenarios playing on Vegard’s mind, only worry is present on his brother’s face. Even in the darkness he can detect and name all of the wrinkles on Bård’s face, on his slight frown and the way his breathing changes. Yet rather than a worded response, Bård sighs deeply as he shifts closer to Vegard’s body, his arms immediately wrapping around Vegard’s shoulders and enveloping him into the most soothing embrace he’s had in a while. These days they don’t truly hug as much as Vegard would like them to, and the unstoppable realisation of the lack of the usual closeness that used to be so characteristic of their brotherhood since they were small hits him like a thunderbolt. He doesn’t understand how he can possibly love being in Bård’s arms yet feel the sadness in his chest spreading across his chest. His hands are clinging tightly to the front of Bård’s tank top while his legs seem to find their way to tangle with Bård’s long ones. He throws his head into the crook of his neck, and Bård’s chin rests on top of his head.

“I’m not pretending,” his brother finally says, and Vegard senses the plead present in his voice in spite of the calmness in which he speaks. “I’ve told you several times already, _I want you_ , and that hasn’t changed in years.”

“What if it does change?” He inquires, welcoming all of Bård’s touches. “What if one day you wake up and the feelings are gone?”

A comforting hand moves up and down his back. “That isn’t going to happen.”

“How can you be so sure of that?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“Come on, Bård, how I feel— _what_ I feel isn’t going away…”

“My point exactly.” The chin on top of Vegard’s head is replaced by the warmth of his brother’s cheek. “Just stop thinking about that, Vegard, you need to rest.”

“I will, Bård, but I need you to know that it’d be okay if you don’t feel the same…”

“Jesus, since when are you a sad drunk?” Bård mutters against his hair, voice mildly muffled by the dark curls. There’s a hint of amusement in his words, and that’s enough for Vegard to know his brother is trying to joke rather than scolding him. “Last time I checked, that was me.”

“You’re not a sad drunk, you’re a grumpy drunk,” he corrects, easily finding comfort on burying his head further on Bård’s neck until his lips are pressed against his left collarbone. “Grumpy, just like the dwarf from Snow White.”

His brother actually giggles at his remark. “Go to sleep, Vegard.”

As his eyelids close, Vegard realises how weary he actually is; not only he feels his eyes burning up and his limbs starting to grow numb, but he is using all of the physical strength left in his body to hold onto Bård.

His fist unclench from Bård’s tank top and slowly move to circle around his torso, hugging him as tightly as he can. In the embrace, Vegard inhales deeply, his brother’s fragrance filling his nostrils and plaguing his mind.

“And you think I don’t?” Bård gently whispers. “Come on, you know me far better than that…”

It’s only after his brother speaks that Vegard realises he’s been mumbling some words as he tries to doze off. And those three words that leave his mouth have been willing to come out in various occasions in the past, but Vegard has never managed to speak them, always chickening out in the last second.

_‘I need you.’_

Three words are what Vegard has been numbly muttering under his breath over and over again, a mantra more than a plead, a statement that no one will able to deny. Three words that hide much more behind ordinary letters placed together, more than just a sentiment or a simple commentary.

He simply does. He needs Bård, and not only as a co-worker, not only as his best friend, not only as his brother. He needs Bård, all of him, he needs him by his side, needs to share all of stories and ideas with him, even if Bård knows beforehand what he’s going to say. He feels so desperate to know if it’s the same to Bård, if he has to deal with all of it himself, if he’s ever so troubled over his own ideas.

Other three words are spoken, though it is a different voice this time. _I love you._ They carry the same emotional weight Vegard’s words, but they feel more free, somehow, as if they have been spoken before yet in a language completely unknown. It isn’t his voice but Bård’s, way smoother and harmonic than Vegard’s. _I love you_ , the voice whispers, and no words have ever felt purer. _I love you_ , and he feels it, he feels loved, just as he’s always felt with Bård by his side.

 _I love you_ , Bård’s voice whispers, and Vegard can’t tell whether it’s real or he’s already fallen asleep.

 

* * *

 

The loud ringing of a phone brings Vegard out of his dreamless sleep. It’s one of those old tunes that reminds him of the phone they had at home back in the nineties. The constant and annoying ringing doesn’t seem to stop, an infinite loop that makes Vegard conscious of his growing headache. He buries his face into the soft pillows. Instantly, the sweet and prominent smell impregnated on them is enough to tell him he isn’t in his apartment. It’s strong and delicious and he finds himself sniffing into the pillowcases. Bård. He feels his eyes burn.

Loud and repetitive, the ringtone keeps hurting his ears, tiny needles that constantly dig into his brain and that won’t cease tormenting him. Vegard hugs the thick duvet tightly around himself while his head sinks deeper into the pillows. He groans, wising the softness in which he lies upon could help him numb the ache. His eyes snap open when a voice curses loudly on the hallway.

“Oh, shit, sorry, sorry. I forgot to silence the damn thing.”

The door swings open, a chill torrent of air getting into the room, and a very swift Bård bursts in, immediately rushing towards the nightstand. He picks up the phone, finally putting an end to Vegard’s newest nemesis. He blinks, getting using to the brightness of the room. His eyes glue to Bård’s silhouette while he talks on the phone, words too soft for him to register. Right, he’s at Bård’s place, he came here last night. That explains why his scent is filling Vegard’s nostrils as he rests between the warm covers. Keeping his eyelids open to follow Bård’s every move across the room, Vegard starts regaining his lucidity. Bård wears dark sweatpants and a white tank top, and his hair is wildly out of place. And dirty, _so_ dirty. A small smile crosses his features as he stares at him, heart warming up at how Bård tries to keep his voice down.

Nevertheless, his headache doesn’t get any better as he starts wondering things from the previous night. Vegard groans again. Many questions pop into his mind, yet he doesn’t have the answer to all of them. He came to Bård’s apartment the night before, that much he can tell, but why is he in his bed? His eyes leave his brother’s shape for a moment to inspect the other side of the bed, and by the way the other two pillows are heaped one on top of the other, he can tell Bård slept next to him. Even when it’s something common between them, he can’t shake away the feeling that this time wasn’t the same.

Vegard drank a lot last night, and he can’t remember what happened next. Has something truly happened between them? Vegard feels his own heartbeat throbbing on his temples as he tries to come up with some logical explanation. He remembers letting the jealousy lead his actions back at the bar. He couldn’t hide his need of reaching for Bård, not even when other people joined them and they were in an open public place. Once he was back at his place, completely alone, he drank some more and realised he needed to see Bård. He couldn’t wait, he had to see him no matter what. After that, his memories are kind of a blur.

The rest of the events are mere fractions in his mind, such as stumbling in the dark through empty streets in order to get to Bård’s apartment. Hell, he’d been feeling so awful about Calle, about the televised kiss and lingering looks, most of his doings were highly influenced by his conflicted emotions. He also remembers sitting by the doorway of the flat, and seeing the gorgeous shape of his brother’s figure appearing before his eyes. Vegard squeezes the duvet tightly around his body, forcing the memories out. Bård’s hand in his own, soft words spoken, eyes that wouldn’t leave each other. He can’t look back any further than that. The way he felt once he saw Bård again is all he can recall.

The moment Bård finally hangs up the phone, Vegard’s eyelids open widely to greet the blond’s face. In spite of being awoken late in the night, there are no dark circles under Bård’s eyes, and he doesn’t even look half as tired as he should be. The thing that surprises the older brother the most is that Bård has actually woken up earlier than him, which is quite odd. If he didn’t feel as awful as he does now, he would tease Bård about it, but his head is pounding and the dizziness also makes presence in his body, product of shifting to get a clearer view of Bård. Finding no trace of weariness, Vegard doesn’t spot hardness or annoyance on Bård’s face either, only a tender smile that somehow eases some of the worries plaguing his mind.

“Hey…” Bård’s voice is gentle as he drops by Vegard’s side on the bed. The small shifting of the mattress makes his stomach flip, and he withdraws the arm he’s thrown over Bård’s side of the bed to give him more space. “How are you feeling?”

“Head’s killing me,” he replies with a husky voice, throat also sore. “God, I might be dying.”

“I’m not surprised, you drank _a lot_ last night.”

Vegard gives a muffled grunt. “Yeah, _I know_.”

Which, in truth, he does. Vegard didn’t keep count of how much alcohol he drank at the bar, but he knows it is enough to explain why his head hurts so terribly. Shot after shot, Vegard didn’t seem to stop when he sat by the counter, and on top of that, he also drank beers with the rest of the group. There’s also the fact that he kept drinking in his apartment, and fuck knows how much alcohol he actually took. It’s a wonder how he’s able to articulate a word. Vegard sighs against the pillows, cursing himself for thinking mixing different kinds of alcohol would be a good idea. If he only could punch his past self for acting so recklessly.

“Who was that, anyway?” He asks, taking his mind off the self-blame. He pushes the duvet off his upper body, remembering it’s actually a weekday.

“Oh, on the phone? It was Calle,” Bård replies nonchalantly, yet Vegard has a hard time ignoring the ache in his chest at the mention of their friend. Not again. Why must a name make him so blatantly jealous? “He was asking if we were going to the office today.”

“Oh. The office. Right.” Vegard closes his eyes. They must be running late, and it’s all his fault. His body feels heavy as a rock, and he doesn’t know if he has the energies to move at all. Nonetheless, Vegard ignores the voice in his mind that begs him to keep still until the headache disappears, rolling on his back in a harsh movement. His stomach immediately complains, sending a wave of nausea up his throat and making his vision blurry. “I should get myself ready,” he says more to himself than at Bård, palms digging on the mattress as he prompts himself up. “Maybe I’ll get time to shower if I rush now.”

“Hold on, buddy,” the blond warns with a careless chuckle, both hands falling on Vegard, one on his shoulder and the other on his arm. He immediately freezes, halfway sitting up. The warmth of his touches creep into his bones, the chilly air reduced to nothing. “You don’t have to.”

“Of course I do, Bård. I don’t wanna walk into the building looking like a zombie, which I probably do.”

“That’s something I can’t deny,” he retorts with amusement, and Vegard doesn’t fail to notice that Bård only releases his grip on his shoulder, keeping his other hand on top of his arm. Bård strokes it with slow movements, smiling not only with his face but with his eyes. “It’s alright, Vegard. I told Calle we weren’t going.”

He furrows his brow. “Why?”

“Because I know you,” he replies shortly. “I didn’t have for you to wake up to know you’re feeling like shit.”

“But—”

“Stop worrying about that,” Bård asserts, squeezing his arm. “It’s almost ten thirty, anyway…”

“Shit, it’s super late…” Vegard leads his left hand up to rub his temples in hope to put his mind in order. “I’m sorry, Bård.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I woke up not long ago.” Another squeeze on his arm makes him feel calmer. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure? If I shower now I think we could make it to the afternoon meeting.”

“We’ll take care of that tomorrow, right now all you need is to gain your energy back,” Bård tells him with a warm smile. “Do you feel like throwing up?”

Vegard frowns. “Now?”

“Yes, now,” Bård echoes. “I need to know if you can take some aspirins and actually keep them down.”

Vegard hesitates for a moment. His stomach doesn’t feel as funny as it did moments ago but he is quite dizzy, and the headache is even greater. Vegard searches for Bård’s blue eyes in comfort, giving a small nod before speaking.

“Yeah, I think I can take the aspirins.”

“Very well, I’ll go get them. Won’t take too long,” he says, retrieving his hand off Vegard’s arm and standing up from the bed. Vegard only stares at him as he disappears through the doorway.

Once he’s left alone with his thoughts, Vegard becomes conscious of his semi-nakedness. Fuck, he hates himself for being so imprudent when it comes to handling his drinking. He rearranges the pillows at his back in a similar manner to the ones on Bård’s side, resting against them. The duvet still covers his lower body, and without Bård’s touch warming him up, he wonders where in the world he’s left his shirt. He rubs his hands over his naked arms, feeling the goosebumps under his fingertips.

Now that the door is open, the airstream brings the smell of freshly made food into the room, and it reaches Vegard’s sensitive nose. When he assured Bård he didn’t have any wishes of throwing up, he didn’t bear in mind that his brother would take it as a hint to make the food ready, considering the two are wide awake. A sudden wave of nausea washes over him as he braces himself tighter. Is that bacon filling his nostrils? He definitely wants to bury his head on the toilet seat and puke his brains out. Vegard feels sick, and no matter in which position he sits in, the ache in his head only grows stronger. His mental state isn’t much better either, not being able to recall everything that happened the previous night worries him to no end.

Why is he on Bård’s bed with only his boxers on? Vegard always remembers the nights Bård falls asleep by his side, keeping each of those times archived in his mind and heart. And yet, this time everything feels so different. The guilt grows in his insides, eating him alive while his mind sinks further into the events of the previous day. Has he been so jealous of Calle that he’s done something he promised not to? Could it be possible that Bård and him, that they… _no_ , he makes himself stop before his creative mind elaborates more about it.

 _But if it had happened, I would remember it_ , he thinks, ignoring the way his stomach twitches at the smell of fried food. Vegard would remember Bård’s lips on his own, their naked bodies pressing together, all of the moans, grunts and curses leaving their mouths in between heated kisses while their hands travel foreign naked skin. It would be perfect, and Vegard would remember it.

“Wouldn’t I?” Beaten down, he mumbles to himself.

In that moment, Vegard stops. The thoughts of their bodies together are better left untouched, caged in the back of his mind. Instead, he concentrates on the way his breathing has become quicker and his stomach turned into a tight knot. Fuck, he should’ve forced himself to stop after the second round of beers.

Vegard is barely keeping himself from rushing into the bathroom when Bård _finally_ comes back into the room. His brother holds a mug on his right hand as he approaches the bed, hot steam coming off the drink as he moves. Soon, the smell mixes with the others in the room. He wrinkles his nose comically at the strong smell of black coffee, wanting to do nothing with it.

“Hell, you look worse than when I left you,” Bård comments as he sits back next to him.

“Thanks,” he replies, sarcasm failing to make its presence on his voice. Vegard is too tired to give a witty reply. “Did you bring aspirins?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Promptly, Bård hands him two white, small pills, which Vegard instantly throws into his mouth as if they were mints for sore throat. Those would also come in handy right now. He opens his eyes again, noticing Bård is holding the mug close to his hands now. Without having much choice, Vegard accepts it, hands only welcoming the heat emanating from the mug. His eyes focus on the hot beverage in his hands and he physically cringes as the strong scent of black coffee fills his nostrils, mixed with the one of fried up food.

“Don’t frown like that, it’s just coffee.” Bård encourages with a wave of his hand. “Drink it up, it’ll help with the headache once they act with the aspirin.”

Vegard purses his lips, hesitating. “What if I _do_ throw up?”

“Are you feeling like it?”

“Kinda,” he doesn’t lie.

“Then you run to the bathroom, because you’re not ruining my carpet,” Bård jokes lightheartedly. “Just drink a little, it’ll help.”

Only because Vegard knows his brother is right, he leads the mug to his lips. The border is hot, but he still presses it against his lower lip and drinks up. Two big gulps is all he manages to take down before he hands him the mug back. Honestly, neither of them is a big fan of black coffee, and the one Bård made for him is simply too strong and sugarless for his liking. He knows it’s because it’ll make him better like that, but it still leaves a prominent bitter taste in his mouth and throat.

“You’ll drink the rest before you get up,” Bård says as he places the hot mug on the nightstand. “And you’ll thank me later for making you drink it.”

“I know I will,” Vegard offers with a painful chuckle.

Vegard’s callous fingers absently play with the fabric of the duvet, head aching as his stomach complains. Trying to forget about the nausea and constant pain on his temples, his mind goes back to questioning the previous night’s doings. He feels so guilty for daring to lay in Bård’s bed after a huge episode of jealousy, even if Bård wasn’t truly aware of it.

A hand reaching for his own forces him out of his small trance.

Tenderly staring at him, Bård rubs circles on the back of his hand. The daylight illuminates his face, but Bård seems to shine with his natural light. Vegard stares at him, holding his hand tightly. The blond Ylvisåker offers him a small, shy smile that somehow helps easing Vegard’s worries. Oh, only Bård knows how to do that to him.

“Can you explain to me what was all that blabber from last night?” He asks, voice as smooth as silk that cause no harm to his ears.

Vegard’s cheeks heat up. “What was what?”

“About Calle,” Bård continues, lifting his eyebrows and chuckling. “You asked me if I liked him.”

“Oh.” Vegard feels embarrassed at his own behaviour, and the words aren’t alien to his ears. He does remember a bit now, how he questioned Bård without a trace of shame. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, but…” He frowns, furrowing his eyebrows together. “Calle? Seriously?”

“I don’t know, Bård.” Ignoring the weariness on his body, Vegard shrugs. “I think the kiss fucked me over.”

“The kiss? That _peck_? Oh, come on.”

Another shrug. “What can I say? I just didn’t think you were going to go for it.”

“I thought it’d be funny, nothing else.” All in all, Bård keeps caressing the back of his hand, and Vegard is unsure whether the aspirin is kicking in or Bård’s motions are making him better. “Believe me, I didn’t want to kiss Calle.”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

The two keep their eyes locked together for quite a while, Vegard relaxing under his gentle touch, feeling considerably calmer. Part of him still burns with jealousy at the thought of Calle kissing him, making him laugh, among other things, but he knows Bård’s words are true. He only wishes he could’ve asked Bård about it in a sober state, rather than rambling things he barely remembers now.

Without any heads up, Bård lets go of him to grab the coffee mug. In comparison to the ones at Vegard’s place, to his annoyance, this one is huge. Vegard remembers when Bård got it, almost two years ago when the two moved to the city. A bit reluctant, he accepts it again. Vegard drinks up what’s left of the coffee in big gulps, the bitterness hastily sliding down his throat. It’s easier to keep it down now that it isn’t that hot, and this time his stomach doesn’t complain. Licking his lips, Vegard hands him the mug back, and Bård effortlessly places it back on the nightstand.

When the thought pops in his mind again, the headache mercilessly seems to come back. He closes his eyes, throwing his head back and taking a deep, long breath. Vegard keeps wondering if the two did something last night, for he feels completely weary. That would also explain why his body aches, in spite of the hangover. His shoulders feel tense, and the muscles on his thighs sting with every move he makes. Vegard blows air through his nose, hands anxiously going back to stroke the thick duvet.

“Hey, relax,” Bård speaks softly, knowing loud noise would do no good to Vegard’s state. “All we did last night was sleep, nothing else. Just sleep.”

“How did you know I was—…”

“Because I know you,” Bård replies before he gets to finish. “And because you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

It’s true, because he practically has seen a ghost, and it didn’t look nice. Vegard can’t shake away the feeling of guilt and sadness from his body, especially after considering Bård would behave normally in his post-sex scenario. He considered it, considered the two could’ve had sex without him knowing, and it makes him no good. Vegard feels so troubled, and he doesn’t understand why. Leading a hand up, he harshly rubs his temples with his index and thumb, in hope to ease his headache. God, why is his headache growing stronger?

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that…” He mutters between thoughts. “I just— I couldn’t remember.”

“All’s good, Vegard, there’s nothing to worry about. We didn’t fuck.”

The rawness in his words actually makes him chuckle this time, eyes snapping open. “Okay, I believe you.”

“I know you like when people go straight to the point, so I’ll spare you the worrying.” Bård looks thoughtful for a second before a huge smile crosses his features. “Though you were a little suggestive last night.”

Vegard lifts his eyebrows, letting himself be surprised by it. “Was I?”

“Yeah,” he says with a muffled laughter, brushing a strand of hair off his face and tucking it behind his ear. “After you kept your hand on my thigh as we were chatting with Calle and Magnus, you kind of slapped my ass when we walked away from the restaurant, but nothing else.”

“Ah.” He feels his cheeks heating up, yet only shakes the feeling away with a chuckle. “Jesus, anything else I need to apologise for?”

“You don’t really have to apologise for slapping my ass,” Bård cheekily says, and Vegard laughs again. Always making him smile. “Though you do need to apologise for one thing. I wanted you to take a shower because you fucking reeked of alcohol, but you crawled on the bed and pulled me down with you, and God, you’re heavy, did you know that?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “But I’ve carried you, and let me tell you you’re not so light either.”

The two brothers giggle for a brief moment, and then a comfortable silence falls upon the room. He’s thankful for having Bård as a brother, for all of his understanding and honesty. It helps him relax considerably. Vegard keeps tracing the sewing patterns of the duvet with his thumbs, finding it somehow relieving as the pressure on the sides of his head starts to decrease. He registers the smell of food again, but manages to stay put as he breathes deeply through his nose. It isn’t that bad this time.

“Would it be that bad, though?” Bård speaks again, and when Vegard looks up at him, he finds him idly staring at his hands resting over his thighs. “Does the idea of us having sex upset you that much?”

Perhaps some years ago those words spoken out loud would make him be terribly embarrassed, but today the situation doesn’t even make him feel awkward. Rather than that, the way Bård’s face drops makes his heart shrink. In truth, he looks as if those words have actually brought him down, as if speaking them had caused him some pain. He swallows the knot forming in his throat.

Whilst glaring at Bård, Vegard can’t help but to reach forward and take Bård’s hand in his again. His hand is cold in his own, and Vegard squeezes it lightly, their fingers fitting together. He feels they are in their teen years again, when they would hold each other’s hands at night and have a long conversation about the day. Why did they even stop doing that?

This time his thumb brushes the back of Bård’s hand, and the soft motion makes his brother look up.

“The idea doesn’t make me upset, Bård,” he starts, struggling to get the words out. _Far from it_ , he reminds himself, yet doesn’t get to say it out loud. “You know it doesn’t. It just scares me to think I would try to do something while I am drunk.”

“Well, it isn’t as if you tried to do something while sober,” Bård mumbles, a hint of sadness in his voice. Vegard feels guilty. “But I do understand.”

“You know what I want, even if it cannot be,” Vegard mutters back.

“It _shouldn’t_ be, but it can.”

A painful chuckle leaves his mouth. “You keep saying that, but is it true? Do you mean it?”

“Of course I do.” Bård unlocks their fingers, yet he keeps holding Vegard’s hand in his own. He turns it around, the back of Vegard’s hand pressing against Bård’s palm. This time he runs two fingertips across his open palm, tracing the same lines over and over again. “I don’t know how much about last night you actually remember, but I already told you. I want you. What I feel hasn’t changed, Vegard, and I think it’s the same for you.”

“Yeah, it is.”

He can’t lie. He can’t tell Bård it isn’t the same for him, not even if that’d make his brother feel free. Vegard can’t lie to him. He loves him so much, so dearly, he wishes he could open his mouth and let the words flow, but it doesn’t work like that, it’s never worked like that for him. Instead, Vegard’s eyes track the movements of Bård’s fingertips on his own skin, finding it rather amusing.

They stay in silence for a moment, only to be broken by Bård’s chuckles.

“Hell, I still can’t believe you thought I was fucking Calle,” he comments with an amused tone. “Seriously?”

Vegard laughs. “You can’t truly blame me for it, Bård. You didn’t see what I saw.”

“Really? And what is that?”

“I saw him kissing you and—-”

“And you were jealous?”

“Of course,” the words leave his mind before he realises it. “I mean. He _kissed_ you.”

“Yeah, but there’s only one co-worker I’d like to kiss,” his brothers utters, a trace of playfulness in his voice.

“I think I can say the same thing.” Vegard’s lips curve into a smile. “Only one.”

A short, breathy laughter. “It would be nice, wouldn’t it?” Bård asks with a smirk, though there’s still a faint rosy colour on his cheeks. “If we were able to have what other people do without being judged.”

Vegard blinks, waiting for Bård to elaborate. He doesn’t even find himself in need to motion Bård to continue, his brother does without being asked.

“Sometimes I think how things could be if we weren’t famous,” he says, voice full of wonder. “Maybe we could be together then, huh? Because we wouldn’t have to worry about getting caught. Or about people judging us. It wouldn’t matter if we’re brothers or not.”

Vegard cringes. He can’t imagine what it must feel to have it all to then be exposed to the press. The thought has been in his head a couple of times in the past, but to know Bård has imagined it, too, makes him feel calmer.

“It would be nice, yes,” Vegard finally agrees. “We could’ve lived in a foreign country, perhaps. A small apartment for the two of us, nothing big or expensive.”

“Yeah, just the necessary. Though I think you’d like to have a piano.”

“I’d settle for a keyboard.”

“Oh, that would be nice. And what country? Switzerland?” Bård proposes. “Or something more exotic? Say, Bhutan.”

He chuckles. “I was thinking Sweden, but okay.”

“Why the hell would we live in Sweden?”

“I don’t know.” Vegard shrugs, enjoying the feel of Bård’s index tracing the lines of his palm. “It’s close to mom and dad, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is,” Bård says, nodding. “But look at Bjarte. He’s living the american dream.”

“True.” Vegard chuckles again, thinking of their little brother and how big he’s become. “But I think anywhere would be nice.”

“As long as we’re together?” Bård inquires with a soft, tender voice.

“As long as we’re together,” he echoes.

They hold each other’s gazes, Vegard finding nothing but love in those blue pools he adores. Time seems to pass slowly, or perhaps he gets lost in them, because they only seem to break out of a pell when a bird tweets outside the window.

“Okay.” Bård gives his hand a final squeeze before letting go. He stands up from the bed, stretching his long arms in the air. “I’m gonna go finish breakfast while you brush your teeth.”

“So you have made us breakfast.”

“I have.” He smiles. “I’ve made the greasiest breakfast I could think of. And you’re going to eat it all.”

Vegard takes in a deep breath, regretting it the second he can tell all of the food apart by their smell. “Yeah, I can smell that.”

“Come on, don’t take too long,” Bård tells, patting Vegard’s leg over the duvet. “I don’t want to eat cold food.”

“I’ll try to hurry.”

Still with his hands rubbing his naked arms, Vegard gives him a short nod. He doesn’t want to take too long either, perhaps forcing some food into his stomach will help him feel better. Not that he truly wants to put a nasty piece of bacon into his mouth at the moment, but he knows Bård’s right when it comes to taking care of hangovers. He might not be the best cook of the world, but his post-drunken nights breakfast are true healers.

Without saying a word, Bård also nods at him. He ducks for a brief moment to pick something off the floor, and soon Vegard notices it’s a hoodie. It matches his sweatpants, and he’s certain Bård wore it the previous night. He eyes him as his long arms get through the sleeves, all of his movements gracious in morning light. With a simply tug on the hood, Bård gives a gratifying hum and slams his open palms over his thighs.

“Hey,” Vegard calls for him before Bård disappears through the door. Arching an eyebrow, Bård turns back. One of his hands holds the door frame. “Lend me a shirt?”

Bård gestures towards the wardrobe, a small grin crossing his features. “Suit yourself.”

“Thanks.”

“No a problem.”

After tilting his head, Bård steps into the hallway, his large body vanishing behind white walls.

Vegard stays in bed for a little longer. His headache has improved, but his eyeballs still burn. Leading his hands to his face, he hesitates before rubbing his eyes. Nonetheless, he soon remembers taking the lenses back at his apartment, failing a couple of times. The lack of coordination lead him to poke his eyeballs while he tried to take them out, but, luckily, he managed to put them back on the lens case. He eagerly rubs his eyes, waiting for the burning sensation on the back of eyelids.

Holding the wall for better support, Vegard gets to his feet. There are stars on the back of his eyelids, his legs feel utterly weak. He has to blink several times, waiting for the dizziness to disappear. It eventually wears off, his vision field improving considerably and allowing him to see the small path to the wardrobe. In there, Vegard finds a plain white t-shirt, which he immediately puts on. He doesn’t understand why in hell he’s so cold. He rubs his eyes again, the heels of his palms digging into his eyeballs. Without doing much, he pads towards the small doorway that leads into the master bedroom’s bathroom.

After taking a leak, Vegard stands before the sink. In the toothbrushes holder, he spots the two toothbrushes that have been there for ages. With twin looks, Bård’s blue toothbrush stands next to his own white. Without wasting time, Vegard brushes his teeth as he stares at his terrible reflection on the mirror. His hair doesn’t look as bad as he thought, but he isn’t presentable at all. The faint shadow of his stubble covers half of his face, while the bloodshot eyes don’t do much.

His brain starts going through Bård’s words. It’s true, he realises, things would be so much easier if they weren’t famous. Vegard doesn’t know for sure whether they could’ve stayed out of showbiz, because it feels _right_ , as if the two just belonged there. _Together_. Nonetheless, he still wonders how it could’ve been. Perhaps it’s true, they could’ve fled to another country where they’d be but strangers. Vegard tries to picture, a life in which he’d wake up by Bård’s side each other, where his days would be filled with loving hugs and lasting looks, where kissing Bård would be the last thing he’d do before falling asleep and the first thing he’d do when he wakes up. Because, God, how he dies to kiss those lips again, to cup Bård’s cheeks and lean in until their mouths collide.

He wants to kiss Bård so badly, his legs weaken at the mere thought of kissing him again, of giving into Bård’s touches and movements, of pressing their lips together until they run out of breath. He wants to, but his stomach turns into a tight knot, and he feels like throwing up.

With the brush in hand, he freezes.

Suddenly, a set of images rush through his mind. Bård’s hands on him, Vegard leaning in, trying to catch Bård’s lips in his own. He feels the same desperation again, the need burning in his insides. Overwhelmed, Vegard holds on the sink with his free hand. He remembers it, remembers how Bård didn’t reply to his movements, how heartbroken he felt when Bård turned his face away, avoiding Vegard’s kiss. It had hurt, hurt him deeply.

Now Vegard is lucid enough to comprehend Bård’s motives for refusing to kiss him, yet it doesn’t ache him any less. Maybe it has to do with his jealousy, but he still feels his heart shrinking and his insides twisting when he remembers how rejected he felt. He understands drunken kisses actions can lead to something neither of them would be glad to happen if they two of them are not conscious of it. And still, he remembers more into that moment.

“ _If I were sober…_ ”

“ _If you were sober and you wanted to kiss me, I’d probably pin you against a wall._ ”

His heartbeat increases.

“Hey.” Vegard turns and sees Bård’s head peeking into the bathroom. “What’s taking you so long?”

For a moment, he almost chokes on toothpaste. His eyes are drawn back to the mirror, where Vegard eyes his own reflection for a brief moment before glaring back at Bård’s face.

“Headache,” he replies, which isn’t entirely a lie. It doesn’t hurt him as much as before, but it’s still present. “I’ll be there in a second.”

“You didn’t throw up, did you?”

Vegard shakes his head. “I’m fine. Just the head.”

“Okay,” Bård replies. He sighs deeply, hands buried on the pockets of his sweatpants. “I’ll just— I’ll wait for you in here, okay?”

Sympathetically, Vegard grins. “Okay.”

Hurriedly, Vegard finishes brushing his teeth. He also washes his face, running his fingertips across his stubble. _If you were sober and wanted to kiss me, I’d probably pin you against a wall_. Vegard swallows, ignoring the smell of food and the way his stomach protests. If Vegard tries to kiss him, will Bård truly behave like that? Or would he still refuse? There’s a knot in his throat, a fear that brings goosebumps to his skin.

When he steps back into the bedroom, it’s to find Bård wasn’t lying. In the still unmade bed, he now lies above the covers, an arm tossed over his face and the other falling at his side. Vegard has to blink at the new brightness of the room. The curtains are pushed back, daylight entering the room and making everything way too bright for Vegard’s liking.

“I’m not asleep,” Bård utters before he has the chance to ask. His eyelids flutter open, revealing the huge blue irises that immediately shoot in his direction. “You done?”

Vegard nods. The chilly stream of air gets into the room through the open door, blowing at Vegard from behind. The goosebumps are visible on his thick thighs, and he reaches down to rub his hands over them to warm himself up. He stands there for a brief moment before Bård prompts himself up with a loud grunt. It seems that his energies reload the moment his feet touch the ground again, his back straightening, his head lifting, a disposed look on his face. Vegard likes to see him like that, yet he can’t avoid the knot on his stomach. He wants to kiss him, wants to launch himself forward and tell Bård how much he wants him. But he can’t. He stops himself before he can reconsider that option.

“Let’s go,” Vegard encourages, softly punching Bård’s leg as he walks towards the door. He waits until Bård joins his side, staring at his every movement.

As Vegard follows him out of the room, he wonders if things will always be like that. How long can two people who love each other pretend to be alright with a no-touching, no-kissing settlement? Is it healthy? What will it take to break them? To tear them apart? The wave of nausea comes back, and he isn’t entirely sure it’s due to the food. He feels so insecure about everything, it’s completely overwhelming. Vegard stares at Bård, at how carefree he looks. He wants to treasure this moment, he wants to keep it with him forever.

Fighting an internal battle on what to do or say, Vegard reaches for Bård’s hand as they they move, lacing their fingers together. The contact won’t last much. He’ll probably follow Bård towards the kitchen and sit by the kitchen table as Bård brings breakfast for the two of them. And yet, Vegard clings tightly onto his hand. He doesn’t think about kissing him, not even when the words Bård said still plague his mind. _If you were sober_. He wishes he was sober last night, when Bård held him as they sleep. He stares at their intertwined hands, telling himself this is enough for now. Forcing himself to digest that.

They’re both silent as they walk, steps that short the distance from Bård’s bedroom to the source of the fried food scent. Bacon, eggs and black coffee are among the flavours present in the air. Vegard slows down the pace of his steps, and Bård does the same. The two enjoy the warmth created between their palms. Biting his lower lip, Vegard hopes he’s wrong about his previous thoughts. He can’t lie to himself. In truth, he doesn’t want things to be like this forever, he doesn’t want to keep hiding the way he feels, he doesn’t want to force himself to let go of Bård.

Perhaps change would be good for them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to say that, as I'm starting uni, I am not sure when I will be updating this again :( I can only hope it won't take me as much as it did before, but I make no promises. However, this work won't be abandoned! As I've said before, everything has been planned since a long time ago and yeah :) I just need to write it down, edit it, etc. I just need to say that after this chapter there will be a chapter seven (split into two parts) and an epilogue :)
> 
> Thanks to all of you who've commented on this and left kudos and actually talked to me about this ;_; it means a lot!!


	7. .vii (a)

_2014_

 

“A mochaccino and a cappuccino.” The sound of the cups of coffee on the wooden bar are followed by a female voice. “Here you go, sir.”

He turns his head right back to the person standing behind the wooden bar.

“Right,” Vegard mumbles at the young barista, offering her a short smile. He places two bills on the bar and pulls the two cups of coffee closer to the border by their respective plates. “Thank you.”

The female barista grins back at him, placing one small pastry cookie on each plate. Her curly red hair makes her face look quite angelical, big hazel eyes that shine with kindness. Vegard limits himself to smile again, briefly thanking her again for such a cordial service. The redhead lady merely wishes him a good day before disappearing to take another customer’s order. Sighing, Vegard holds both cups up by their plate, his face dropping as he turns around.

For some reason, he feels uneasy while he makes his way back to the table, a lump in his throat that he can’t swallow. He takes step after step, not truly knowing if he wants to go back to his table just now.

Over the sound of people chatting in the place, he tries to spot the voice of the one that matters the world to him. As much as he sharpens his hearing, the voice can’t be heard. Nonchalantly, his eyes travel across the room, focusing on the view outside the see-through windowpanes of the coffee shop. The weather has been unbelievable awful today. It’s been drizzling outside ever since Vegard woke up earlier that morning. He had forgotten to close the window the previous night, so the cold breeze blew into the bedroom, carrying small drops of rain too. He still wonders if that’s the reason he’s been having a headache ever since he got out of bed. His temples throb vigorously, and the pressure in the back of his head prevails. Aspirins don’t seem to have any effect on him today. Defeated, Vegard takes a breath in, letting the scent of the recently brew coffee fill his nostrils.

 _Maybe coffee is what I need_ , he thinks to himself. His gaze keeps shifting from table to table until he finds a striped jersey he’s familiar with. _Or maybe he is what I need…_

Slowing down the pace of his steps, Vegard blinks twice. The image of his brother doesn’t alleviate the headache in the least. Not that Bård is to blame for the constantly throbbing of his temples— not at all. It’s all Vegard’s own fault. Or his mind’s fault, more like it. His mind is always to blame. Lately, Vegard hasn’t gotten proper sleep, often waking up in the middle of the night without being able to fall back asleep. Last night was not the exception. The darkness and quietness surrounded him, and the memories of an argument burdened his mind. By the time he got Bård’s text asking him to meet him up to get breakfast together, only the sound of the pouring rain echoed through Vegard’s room.

There is no point in hiding the fact his heart skipped a beat when he got the text from his brother, not after what happened between them. Bård wanted them to get breakfast together, and there was no second of hesitation before he agreed. He would always say yes to see his brother, especially in the situation they were right now. For the past few days Bård has been ignoring him, refusing to meet him after work and barely texting at all. The distance created between them feels weird, it feels _wrong_. By the time Vegard got the second text that morning with the name of the coffee they’d go to, he already had his clothes on and was ready to leave. He hoped they’d solve things up, that they’d go back to the way they’ve always been. Nonetheless, things didn’t work out as he wished them to.

In short, he drove to Bård’s place to pick him up, hoping he’d greet him with a warm hug and affable words. But, oh, Vegard was so wrong. Bård merely glanced in his direction when he got in the passenger seat, browsing some web page on his mobile phone. The rest of the drive was silent. Vegard did not dare to utter unnecessary words when his brother only wanted one thing: silence. In spite of this, he wasn’t able to keep his eyes off Bård as he drove— he’s never been capable to look away from him when there’s something off between them, especially if the two are alone. Vegard kept taking glances at him every now and then, but Bård’s expression prevailed; blank, eyes set somewhere outside the window, mouth pressed into a line.

The blue eyes never meet his brown ones throughout the whole drive, and it made Vegard’s heart ache.

His gaze shifts to the coffee shop windows. The rain hasn’t ceased since that morning. It’s impossible to get a clear view to the outside of the city, thick drops of water rolling down the window glasses. Vegard’s eyes travel across the room again, setting on the his brother’s image. The first thing he notices is the golden and almost shoulder-length hair that falls over the striped jersey. Bård remains sat at the table, not interacting with anything around him. As usual, the table is the one tucked in the farthest corner of the place, where no one but Bård seems to sit at. For a brief moment Vegard finds himself absently staring at him, an edgy feeling building in his stomach. He tries to shake the feeling away as he resumes his walk and crosses the few steps to their table, being extra careful with the hot beverages he holds in hand.

“Hey,” Vegard makes his presence noticeable. He passes by his brother’s side, taking a seat right in front of him. “Got the coffees.”

Bård hums. It’s rather curious how breakfast together turned into drinking a cup of coffee. Vegard was the one to suggest ordering the hot beverages instead, though his reasons were not spoken aloud. _Couldn’t_ be spoken out loud. The moment he made the short suggestion, he kept thinking it would be hard to force himself to eat when Bård was acting so cold towards him. And surprisingly, Bård agreed. There’s something about being in this awful situation with his brother that even messes with his basic activities, such as eating.

After placing both cups on the surface of the table, Vegard moves the mochaccino closer to his brother. Bård doesn’t move, looking rather interested on whatever it is he reads in his phone. Vegard is curious about it, yet not curious enough to ask. He keeps the other coffee at a hand reach, not really going to try it until it cools down a little. He moves himself closer to the white table, throwing his arms over it. The surface feels cold, just as expected. His fingers dance idly on it, gaze never leaving his brother’s face.

“Thanks,” is all Bård mumbles back, though he never lifts his gaze from his phone.

The response is short and cold. It does no good to ease his inner worries. Vegard wonders if it’s possible for love to amplify when hurt accompanies it. He studies his expression, trying to find a clue, a trace of something that proves Bård really wanted them to have breakfast together. A strand of hair falls over his forehead, the rest of the golden hair stays somewhat messy. He probably showered earlier that morning and didn’t bother brushing his hair. Vegard contemplates the thought of jokingly telling Bård to fix it a little, or perhaps making a comic remark while pushing the wild strand back to where it belongs, but he knows better than to do so. Bård would possibly shoot an angry look, maybe even snap his hand away. Vegard wouldn’t be able to stand it.

Instead, he settles for staring at him with keen interest, all in complete silence. Vegard’s hands wrap around the steaming cup of coffee. His gaze shifts on all his clean features, from his slender shoulders to the curve of his lips, studying all of his body language, hoping to find something hidden in them. Is Bård truly interested in what his mobile phone has to show? Or can this be just an act to avoid making small chat with him? Vegard physically cringes at the thought, lacing his fingers around the cup. The two of them are used to turn small chat into great conversations that in the end are completely meaningless, but that they both like having. Instead, the only thing that greets Vegard is an awful silence. He can’t live like this.

Taking in notice the way Bård shifts in his seat, he guesses his brother can sense his brown gaze on him. Yeah, he can. Just as Bård lets go of the phone to take hold of his coffee, his blue eyes meet Vegard’s for a fraction of second. They’re indifferent and cold, yet they still manage to leave the older man quite breathless. Bård leads the other steaming cup of coffee to his lips, pale fingers hooked on the cup handle whilst his other hand holds the small plate, the pastry cookie still on it. Vegard observes the absorbing way of how the border of the cup presses against Bård’s mouth, the elegant contrast of the white glazed ceramic against the pink of his lower lip.

 _Stop_ , his mind tells him, _you can’t keep doing this_. Not now, anyway— not when life feels like a thousand of tiny needles digging in his brain. Feeling his cheeks burn in embarrassment, he looks away. It is rather intrusive to keep staring so shamelessly now that Bård has acknowledged his enduring stare.

“What is this?” Bård says with a small cough all of the sudden. Vegard looks up, finding him wrinkling his nose, mouth curved into a disgusted frown. “God, what have you ordered?”

“Your usual,” he replies, tilting his head. “A large mochaccino.”

He furrows his brow together, wrinkles appearing in his nose again. “Mocha? Hell, it tastes awful.”

“What? Do you hate mocha now?” He asks jokingly, though Bård’s expression remains disgusted.

“I asked you to order a cappuccino for me today, Vegard. Not _this_.”

“But—…”

The sentence dies in his throat, unable to find anything of value to say. Vegard blinks twice, trying to understand his brother’s reasoning. What is it about this whole thing that makes him feel so guilty? It isn’t as if he doesn’t know Bård, because, oh, he does. Vegard knows him better than anyone else in the entire world. Though his words don’t make sense. Ever since they were teenagers, Bård has never liked his coffee with other than chocolate syrup or some sort of cocoa in it. _Coffee tastes awful_ , he often used to claim, _why would anyone drink it without something sweet in it?_

Still staring into those blue irises, Vegard remembers his words. They are just as clear as all the times they have shared these little facts about themselves that no one but them know. He keeps those memories dear to him, and he isn’t about to ignore years of experience of knowing Bård to acknowledge his own mistake. Vegard knows him. He knows what Bård likes to the point he closes his eyes just to enjoy it for a little longer. He know what kind of things make Bård nauseous.

Vegard knows him, and this— this _isn’t_ Bård.

Seconds pass by and Bård keeps staring at him as if he had mistaken him for a stranger or misspelled his name. As if something like that could ever happen.

“Sorry, Bård. I thought you wanted your usual.”

“Yeah, people change,” Bård breathes out, tearing his gaze off Vegard. He takes the small pastry off the plate and throws it in his mouth. “Their taste in things also change.”

A sudden unwanted rush of indignation runs through his body. Is this Bård’s strongest alibi? Seriously? Vegard desperately wants to ask him whether his preferences can change in just a few days or not. Not over two weeks ago the two wake up in the opposite ends of the couch in Vegard’s apartment, and a very sleepy Bård asked him to fix him a nice mug of coffee as soon as his eyes snapped open. And, of course, Vegard had no problem with turning on the coffee machine. What is better than spending the first hours of the day with your brother and a good coffee mug, anyway?

He wants to give a witty reply, hide the truth with sarcasm. But Vegard knows better. His head still aches, and he actually understands what’s going on. _Bård acting like this because of me_ , he muses to himself. _This isn’t him. He doesn’t mean this_.

“I’m sorry, Bård.”

“Doesn’t matter…”

“Yeah, it does matter.” Before he has the chance to say anything, or to throw the coffee away, Vegard manoeuvres the cups of coffee over the surface of the table. In a swift movement he exchanges the position of the cups, now the mochaccino in front of him whilst he places the cappuccino by Bård’s hands. “Take mine, I’ll take this one.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t like mocha.”

“And apparently neither do you,” he shoots back, staring into his eyes. “Drink that one, it’s okay.”

To that, Bård looks at him for some seconds without uttering a word. Then, he gives a small nod that Vegard interprets as a short thank you gesture. It’s enough.

He might not admit it out loud, but he often tries to do what’s best for Bård instead of focusing on his own satisfaction. It’s been a constant ever since the younger of the two was born. On a normal day, he would study all kinds of situations before agreeing on them, all based on whether that’d be fine by Bård or not. He would look after Bård even when the younger brother isn’t aware. Hell, Vegard would even allow Bård to pick the toppings of their pizza, even if he isn’t fond of too many toppings and Bård seems to like them all. It would be wrong to say he sacrifices his own comfort for Bård, because seeing that smile on Bård’s face is enough for him. That’s the meaning of his own happiness.

Yet no matter how long he studies the face before him, no smiles breaks that cold exterior.

Not wanting to making the coffee sweeter, Vegard drinks straight from the cup. Commonly, he’d put two teaspoons of sugar, but today he prefers to drink it simpler. His eyelids drop at the contact of the ceramic against his lips, and soon the sweetness of the hot drink spreads on his tongue. Truth be told, it is not unpleasant. He likes chocolate and coffee, yet he would rather having them separately rather than combined. It’s only when he fixes Bård’s coffee that he adventures to try it, but it’s only a small sip. A full mochaccino cup, though, is too much for him.

After washing two mouthfuls of the sweet liquid down his throat, Vegard’s gaze shifts back to his brother. He finds him concentrated in his own cup, pouring some teaspoons of sugar in it. Too many, he reflects. Though it might be okay for his younger brother. Bård has always liked his food sweeter, anyhow. Vegard focuses on the swirling of the coffee. It is absorbing, in a way. He has a false sense of calmness, threatened by the way Bård never looks up. It feels as if he knows there is a storm coming, but there is nothing he can do to avoid it.

Or maybe he can.

He looks at his own hands for a fraction of second, before his gaze drift back to Bård’s features. Carrying a small sense of frighten in his chest, he decides to put an end to the awkward silence between them.

“Bård?”

“Hmm?”

“What was the thing you wanted to tell me?”

“Oh.” The voice is but a mere whisper, perhaps a reminder to himself of why they’re there. Quite distracted, Bård looks up from the cappuccino and meets Vegard’s eyes. It takes him some seconds to speak up. “Right. It’s, uh, about work.”

“Work?”

“Yeah, work.”

The short response leaves the older brother questioning the truth in Bård’s words. It’s easy for Vegard to identify the lies in his brother’s speech. He always reacts way too slow when he’s lying, and the distraction in his voice is present. Plus, if he truly wanted them to get breakfast to talk about something that’s work-related, they could’ve waited until they were in the office. This isn’t the most credible excuse to spend time together. All in all, Bård hasn’t brought up anything regarding their job scope since they walked into the coffee shop. In fact, he never mentioned anything about work in his text messages. Though Vegard didn’t ask him for an explanation, either. He accepted the invitation without questioning the reason Bård wanted them to eat breakfast together, and it’s only now that he thinks about it.

Vegard can’t buy this lame excuse.

And yet, he can’t stop thinking about it either. It’s quite odd for Bård to even think about breakfast when it comes to discuss work stuff. The younger Ylvisåker has never liked breakfast that much. He tends to skip the first meal of the day on repeated occasions, a bad habit that he’s had since he was little. That’s one of the reasons Vegard often fixes breakfast for the two of them. It’s an important meal of the day, anyway, and it’s no problem for him. He enjoys noticing the short smirk on Bård’s face when he eats a grilled cheese sandwich, or even a bowl full of cereal.

Perhaps Vegard is going crazy, but… can it be that Bård just wanted to see him? It wouldn’t be strange for them to meet on weekdays before going to the office. Quite the opposite, actually. They spend most of their time together, it’s a custom for them. Even if they don’t make plans for eating breakfast together, the brothers often carpool to the building. However, in the past few days their interactions have felt so alien for him that it truly leaves him wondering what Bård’s true intentions are.

Maybe his baby brother is telling the truth, after all. He only wants them to discuss things about work. There’s also a huge possibility Vegard is reading too much into this, desperately hoping for another reason Bård wants them to spend time together. He wants to believe Bård needs to spend time with him in an informal setting, just as they’re used to do. He wants them to be as close as they’ve always been.

“Okay,” Bård speaks again, clearing his throat and straightening his back on the chair. He laces his fingers together, right thumb over his left thumb, and his blue eyes set on Vegard as he speaks. “There’s a couple of things I want us to discuss before next Wednesday’s meeting. Mainly, I want your opinion about the order of singles we’re launching this fall. I’ve been thinking we should go with the original idea instead, judging by the thematics of the show…”

The words seem to flow out of his mouth, keeping a calm and paused voice worthy of an office meeting. Bård goes on and on about the subject, keeping his expression blank. In contrast, all Vegard does is listen to what he’s got to say, trying to concentrate on the topic without letting his emotions interfere. He knows the order of single releases is vital, something they would have to attend sooner rather than later. And yet, there’s a small voice in his mind telling him this isn’t the place nor the time to treat this elaborated topic. If they truly are to discuss this, the setting should be an office, with laptops and a lot of paperwork in front of them. That’s the way they’ve always done it. They usually scrabble information into sheets of paper, and later they become one of their most important ideas.

Although as much as Vegard would like this to be examined back at the office, he listens carefully to all Bård says.

Between sips of coffee and some awkward silences, they talk about everything Bård brings to their table. He does not limit himself to the singles, he also mentions sketches among other things that make Vegard go into his professional self. However, he prefers to listen rather than uttering all of his ideas. This isn’t the last time they’ll discuss these subjects, anyway. He can always let Bård know his thoughts. Oddly enough, he refuses to look up from his own hands during their chat. The moments their eyes meet are counted; only ever so often between Bård’s silence and the beginning of Vegard’s short inputs.

Disappointedly, with the pass of the minutes and the emptying of their coffee cups, Bård remains true to his words. The topics spoken on the table don’t go beyond the working lines. The formality with which Bård addresses him is cutting, something Vegard can barely tolerate. When have them, in their nearly fifteen years of career, talked to each other as if they were strangers? Even during their teen years, the arguments weren’t as huge. Their way of getting things done has never been like that —so frivolous— not even in their bad days.

His brother falls quiet, and the silence is even more difficult to bear than the way he coldly spoke. That stillness is what leads Vegard to speak up.

“Bård?” He mumbles his name, contemplating the empty cup of coffee before him. It’s rather surprising how a sweet drink can leave such a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Hmm?” He hums in response. Nothing more than that.

In spite of how difficult it is for Vegard to look up from the whiteness of the cup, he forces himself to do it. Part of him would prefer to shy away and look somewhere else as he speaks, but he knows he can’t do that. Once again, he is disappointed to find Bård’s gaze stays fixed on the screen of his mobile phone, just as before. He tries to peek, but he’s browsing something Vegard doesn’t quite decipher.

“Please talk to me?” He requests in a lower tone.

“I am talking to you.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t think I do.”

A sigh escapes his lips. “Talk to me, talk to me about what’s bothering you— about _us_. Talk to me about us.”

Vegard doesn’t know what hurts him the most about the whole thing. Maybe the words themselves, or the way Bård speaks them— so calm and casual, yet with something else hidden in them. It also aches him to know there’s some truth to what he is sayig. All in all, his brother’s focus is set on the screen of his mobile phone alone, which makes him wonder whether he is paying the attention Vegard needs him to.

With a heavy heart, he reaches across the table to set his hand on Bård’s arm. He’s been dying to do so ever since his brother got into the car back in the early morning. Minutes, hours, days without having the contact that is so dear to him.  And it’s that very contact what makes Bård finally look up from the phone. Blue eyes, clear as the summer sky, staring back in spite of all. His gaze holds such intensity that Vegard’s breath gets caught on his throat.

Forcing air into his lungs, he collects himself from the effect those penetrating blue eyes have on him. He blinks, swallowing the remains of sweet coffee in his mouth.

“Bård…” He mumbles, squeezing his arm with sentiment. “Please.”

For some time, all they do is stare into each other’s eyes, as if they have never done it in the past. Vegard feels himself rediscovering the variations of blue in his brother’s irises, making a beautiful contrast with the dark pupils. He wonders what does Bård look for in his brown eyes, for they are quite dull, a monotonous and boring colour. Bård would probably punch his shoulder and roll his eyes if he heard Vegard’s thoughts. Throughout the years, whenever Vegard mentions how pitiful he is for having his dark eyecolour, Bård shoots him a meaningful glare before telling between murmurs how pretty he thinks they are. Vegard can’t lie about it— hearing the way Bård talks about him moves something in him, be it a small comment about his eyes, arms, thighs— even about his intangible attributes. There’s so much love hidden in his words, there’s no need to clarify whether it’s a compliment or not. Most of their explicit compliments for each other are reserved for nights when the two are sleepy, or in rare situations when one of them simply bursts something out. Vegard still appreciates each of those rare moments.

No words are needed between them as their gazes keep locked and Vegard keeps his hand on top of Bård’s arm. All of the sudden he realises how much he has missed these kind of intimate moments, even if they seem to be quite mundane in the eyes of strangers. There’s nothing more they need to communicate, to know what’s on each other’s mind— just one look. These moments are part of what is best about life itself. The more Vegard studies his expression —lips pressed into a line, eyes wide and vulnerable, the muscles on his forehead relaxed— he notices there is something buried in all of his features. It’s in that moment, when Bård’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down a couple of times, that Vegard sees how fragile and thin Bård’s façade actually is.

The mask he’s been wearing finally breaks, and Vegard is able to peek through the big cracks. There’s hurt, anger, and longing. So much longing. Vegard can see everything, from the desperate words that haven’t been spoken to the yearning for this kind of interaction between them. Suddenly, it’s all very clear for him— Bård has missed him just as much as Vegard has.

But the vulnerability washes off Bård’s face. The mask reconstructs itself back on his features. The magic spell disappears the second Bård jerks his arm free from Vegard’s grip, leaving the older brother with a deep feeling of rejection.

“We are here because I wanted us to discuss something concerning the singles, Vegard,” he utters, looking away. His eyes move to set on the windowpane, where raindrops still roll down, but Vegard’s remain on him. “And that’s all.”

Now, when Vegard has seen through the cracks, the words Bård utters sound even weaker. He knows he doesn’t mean them, yet they end up hurt him— a lot. The rejection, real or not, feels like a stab in the kidney. They cannot do this, things between them can’t be like this. Vegard wants to fix things, he wants to mend what he’s done, but how can he if Bård keeps shutting him out?

Well, he knows how, somehow. But it’s all too much. What Bård asks of him is something Vegard doesn’t know he’ll be able to give him. It frightens him, it makes him want to shout. He doesn’t want to put their relationship on the line.

“It’s getting late now,” Bård continues, pointing at the clock on the wall across from their table. “We should head to the office already.”

He wants to speak up, tell him there might way to fix this now, but Vegard can’t. The more he thinks about it, he can’t find anything to help them settle the argument. His instinct to avoid fighting kicks in, taking over his power to speak. He blinks, eyes drifting back to the empty cup in front of him.

“Okay,” defeated, Vegard complies. “Let’s go.”

They leave, and the two empty cups of coffee remain on the table.

 

* * *

 

“What has gotten into your brother’s ass today?”

Somewhat detracted from his surroundings, Vegard turns around. He can’t avoid a short smile on his face when he recognises the person before him. Tall, short light hair, blue ocean eyes. Standing in front of him, Calle carries a doughnut with pink frosting in his hand. Calle stands before him, carrying a doughnut with blue frosting in hand. He’s merely taken two bites out of it, yet Vegard doesn’t have to make much effort to notice the traces of frosting on the corners of his mouth. Vegard only leads the small plastic cup to his lips, cold liquid filling his mouth.

“What do you mean?” He questions, drinking the cold water before dossing the plastic cup into the bin.

“What do I mean?” Calle repeats his words, lifting his eyebrows. “He’s been grumpy for a couple of days now, but today he’s just insufferable.”

“Really?” He doesn’t know what else to say. What Calle says is true, but he has to cover for Bård. That’s what they do. They can’t bring their personal problems into the office. Vegard understands why Bård is so pissed, it’s all his fault, after all, but they can’t drag people into it. “I haven’t noticed.”

With his free hand, Calle pokes his ribs. “Cut the crap, Vegard, I’m not buying it. You know what’s up with Bård, you always do. I mean, you guys are practically attached to the hip.”

He blinks. Is that the impression they give their co-workers and friends? It’s not the first time someone uses that expression to address the brothers, though it is the first time the words make Vegard’s mind crowded with thoughts. The two barely spend time apart, that much is true. They have separate offices, although it wouldn’t be odd to walk into Bård’s office find Vegard sitting opposite to the younger brother. Or take a peek into Vegard’s office and find Bård lying on the black couch that’s pressed against the wall. There are also several rooms in the building they use together, including meeting rooms, the break room, even the one with the piano and keyboards, where they can take a break from office stress and rely on music to help them relax. They enjoy being in each other’s company, and apparently most people notice it.

But have they also noticed the change in Bård’s behaviour? Is the aftermath of their argument as noticeable for the rest of people as it feels for him? Vegard stares blankly at the white wall behind Calle’s shoulder. He doesn’t like answering to these kind of questions. The wound is too fresh and the guilt has him tripping over his own words. Not that he would truly explain what happened (that’s just off the menu), but he can barely think about it without taking deep sighs and getting an emptiness in his stomach.

Vegard moves his gaze back to his friend’s face. Pink doughnut frosting now covers part of his left cheek.

“Listen, Calle, don’t worry about it,” he tells him with a short smile, clapping his hands before his chest. “Really. It’s all my fault. I mistook his coffee order this morning and that got him pissed off, nothing to worry about.”

“Mistook his coffee order? That isn’t a good reason to be so hot tempered today.”

He lets out an involuntary sigh, now rubbing his palms together. “It’s just— it’s all my fault. So why don’t you let me take him the coffee instead?”

“And do you think that’s wise?” Calle says before taking a bite off his doughnut. “If you already fucked up his order once, I mean.”

“Well…” He seems to be lost in his own mind for a moment. “I don’t know.”

His words carry nothing but honesty in them. Maybe taking care of his coffee order again isn’t the wisest decision he can make. Will Bård act as indifferent as before? As cold and uncaring? He cringes at the thought. Or is there any chance for him to fix the unintentioned mistake he made that morning? He has got to try it, hasn’t he? It’s the least he can do. He misses having his brother around. Maybe this is his chance to try and make things right.

“Vegard? Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

“Huh?”

“You are biting your lip,” Calle points out with discretion. “That means you’re concerned about something. Are you sure everything is okay with you two? ”

A bit embarrassed of his unconscious reaction, Vegard stops the motion. It’s true, he does it when he’s either worried or lost in his own thoughts. In this case, it happens to be both. “Oh, it’s alright. Don’t worry.”

Calle doesn’t seem to be convinced with his dismissive response; eyes narrowed and brow slightly furrowed together. In spite of this, his expression softens when he notices there’s nothing left for Vegard to say.

“Well, if you ever need someone to talk about it…” He licks his finger clean after eating the final bite of the doughnut. He chews, nodding at Vegard’s words. “You know I’m here.”

A kind smile draws on Vegard’s face. How is it possible he once thought Calle might be interested in Bård in a romantic way? Vegard feels stupid now. He appreciates Calle’s good intentions, he truly does. He’s been nothing but a good friend for the two of them throughout the years. In fact, Vegard knows he can rely on him during hard times. But even if Vegard trusts him, he doesn’t think he’d be able to confine him the way he feels about Bård. It is complicated, and something he wants to keep secret, something that he should’ve kept to himself since he realised how hard he had fallen for Bård. And it is Bård the one who knows about it— the one who understands and reciprocates all the love he feels. Bård is the one who knows him best. Despite that, they find themselves in this complicated situation that keeps creating distance between them. Nothing is as easy as people might think.

He places his hand on Calle’s shoulder, giving two reassuring squeezes.

“Thank you, Calle,” he replies, hoping his words reflect the way he feels. “I do.”

“Perfect. And hey, while you’re at it, ask your idiot brother if he wants to joins us tonight.”

Releasing the weak grip off Calle, Vegard remembers their previous conversation about the plans for tonight. When the brothers got to the office earlier that day, their friends have been cheerfully blabbering about a Thai restaurant down in the city. Apparently, it was Calle who spot it first, and he hadn’t shut up about it ever since. In just minutes, he made plans to go there after work. They had nothing to celebrate, but he thought it would be good to pay it a visit. Trying a new place was always nice. However, when he asked the both Ylvisåkers if they’d join him, Bård shrugged and muttered he’d think about it. Vegard was left with no answer to give.

“Still planning to go to that new Thai restaurant?”

Calle nods. “Yeah. Can you believe I had to book a booth? Apparently they roll like that in that Thai restaurant. I just need to confirm Bård and you are coming to tell Magnus.”

“No problem, I will ask him.”

With nothing left to add, Vegard gives him an empathetic nod. The tallest of the two replies with a similar motion, only that his body language comes much stiffer than Vegard’s. Still, he doesn’t fail to notice the smile on Calle’s doughnut frosting covered face before he paces out of the room. Vegard observes some people on the hallway as he moves, limiting himself to wave his greetings and keep walking. He doesn’t really feel like making small chat with any of his co-workers today; there is nothing interesting to comment, nor matters that need to be addressed yet. Short ‘ _hey_ ’s or ‘ _afternoon_ ’s are more than enough for him.

Vegard walks past his own office without stopping by. He keeps pacing down the hallway until he reaches the break room. It’s not a big room, like the one in a huge company or important law firms, but it has got his own charm. It’s got two large black tables with ten white chairs each, some shelves where they keep food, a fridge, and two coffee machines. The break room is more than enough for them, and it’s never as crowded as people often see in TV series or films. Both brothers visit it frequently, most of the time in each other’s company. Calle and Magnus tend to join them, too. It’s a nice place where they can relax for some minutes before getting back to work.

Disposed to go for Bård’s coffee ( _a cappuccino_ ), Vegard walks in. What he finds inside is totally unexpected.

Rather than finding the break room empty, there is someone inside. Someone with a dirty blond hair that is unmistakable to him. Bård has his back turned to the entrance, and sat by the table that is closer to the window. He still wears the striped jersey, and the strands of hair fall a little over his shoulders. Vegard takes a step forward, and things become a little more confusing. Sitting opposite of Bård, a man with glasses writes something on a notepad. A journalist, probably. His brown hair is neatly pushed back, and he smiles the second he lifts his face to look back at Bård. He seems to be in his mid thirties, probably around Vegard’s age. The man presses a button on the recording machine, and then proceeds to ask something.

He can’t remember any interview scheduled for today, so Vegard has no idea why his brother might be holding a small chat with a journalist. Can it be he has missed something? And Bård is still so mad at him he didn’t bother to inform Vegard? He swallows hard, trying to push all the worrisome possibilities down.

It’s hard for him to make out any of the words Bård says as response. He’s too far from where they sit and Bård is known to speak the lowest out of the two of them. But judging by the way he moves his hand in front of his face, he must be talking about work. Vegard knows how to read his body language, especially during interviews. However, he wants to actually listen to his words. Not that he’s going to join the interview— by any means, if he hasn’t been called, he’s not going to interrupt them. But still, he moves swiftly until he’s able to sit on the chairs at end of the other table. From there, he’s able to look at his brother more closely and hear some of the things they say.

“…but we can’t say more about it yet,” Bård’s voice is clearer now, and Vegard can make out some of the things he says. Apparently, he was right. It’s something about their work. He feels alien for not being called at this small interview. “So nothing left to say about that until September.”

The man sitting across from his brother chuckles, lifting both hands in the air. For a second, the pen looks as if it’s about to fall off his fingers, but it doesn’t. He simply leads his left hand back to the notepad and writes something down. If the journalist notices Vegard in the room, he doesn’t give any signal he does.

“Very well, Bård.” The man keeps scribbling something on his notebook before looking up. Through the glasses Vegard notices his eyes are light brown. “Is working with family the secret for a longing and fortuitous career?”

Oh, personal questions time. The hint of wanting Bård to elaborate on that topic is rather evident in the journalist’s deep voice. Vegard feels a sudden rush of anxiety down his spine. His worries are concerning to what Bård has to say about him— about them. They’re not in the best of terms right now, anyway. He wouldn’t be surprised to hear Bård replying the journalist’s questions with sarcastic remarks or attempts on deviating the thematic of their conversation back to the usual topic of discussion. If Bård is too uncomfortable by the talk, he might even bring The Fox up. The silly single has been able to rescue them during stressing interviews in the past.

“I think it is, for some people,” Bård says.

“How so?”

“Well, I’ve read about some famous people who are related and try to start business together. In the end, some of them just can’t work as a team. Thankfully, I’m not in that group of people. In fact, I believe it’s because Vegard and I are related that our careers have lasted for many years.” Long fingers comb his hair, and his voice remains low as he speaks. “We share more than just a bond created between colleagues. My brother and I have spent most of our lives together, we’ve been very close ever since we were kids. And that closeness, among other things, is what keeps us going.”

“So you actually enjoy working with your brother?”

The contentment is almost palpable in Bård’s giggle. Vegard can’t stop his heart from beating faster, his brother’s words get to him.

“Very much so. I consider myself lucky for working with Vegard. Sometimes we might have some disagreements, but most of the time we work as one. Vegard has always been able to understand me. He knows what I’m about to say before I ever open my mouth, and things like that. It may be annoying for some people, but we’re used to it. It’s product of spending a lot of time together.”

The man nods. “Can you say that you think of your brother when you hear the word happiness?”

“Yes,” Bård replies with firmness. “Of course I do.”

Vegard’s breath gets caught on his throat. The clear affirmation is not something unknown to him. Throughout their career, both brothers have reaffirmed how satisfying they find it to work together, which often eases Vegard’s doubts on whether Bård wants to keep doing this or not. He’s had his fears in the past, wondering if it’s been too much for Bård, if he has had enough of working with his older brother and wants to do something by himself. Every single one of the times Vegard has wondered those things, Bård has been there to assure him there’s no other place he’d rather be. It never fails to warm Vegard’s heart.

Still, listening to these words out loud do more than warm his heart. He wishes he could stand up and join the interview; throw an arm around Bård’s shoulders, or pat his thigh under the table. A small show of affection that he knows would have an intimate meaning for his brother. The way he behaves doesn’t match the way he’s behaved in the last days. They’re in a situation that keeps wounding Vegard, but the fashion of how Bård speaks so highly of him gives him all the hope he needs to know they’ll be able to sort things out. It’s something they need to do. They’re brothers, after all, and they always seem to find a solution. Only that this time, Vegard is the one who has a decision to make. His insides keep burning with the thought of Bård associating him with happiness rather than sadness. In this precise moment, that means a lot.

“Okay, Bård,” the man says, pressing a button on the tape recorder. He closes the notepad, too, and puts everything into his satchel bag. He gives Bård one final smile before getting to his feet and offering his hand. “It’s been nice to meet you. Thank you for this interview.”

His brother kindly accepts it, shaking it a couple of times before letting go. “It’s been nice to meet you too. Do you want me to—”

“Walk me to the lobby?” He chuckles, fixing the satchel cord on his shoulder. “No, that’s fine, thank you. I can walk there by myself.”

“Very well. If you need any help, just ask someone. And if you need anything else, I believe you’ve got our manager’s number.”

“I do,” he replies, fixing his glasses a little. “Again, thank you for your time.”

Vegard notices how Bård tilts his head. “All’s good.”

There seems to be nothing left to add. Vegard hasn’t listened to the whole interview, but he can tell it’s been pleasant for his brother, judging by the evident mood change. The man steps towards the entrance, walking with a slow pace. Vegard does nothing but stare at him, anxiously tapping his thumb on his arm. On his way out, the journalist makes eye contact with Vegard. He stops on his tracks for a brief moment, surprise evident in his face. Vegard wants to say something, _hello_ , at least, but he only wants to make himself present at his brother. Rather than saying something, he waves at him from the spot he sits at. The journalist, now moving again, waves back at him with a short smile. He exits the room, not glancing back at either of them.

Without making much noise, Vegard stands up from his chair. His eyes stay glued on Bård for a second. His hands are clasped together, elbows placed on the table. His back isn’t as straight as before, yet his shoulders remain tense. He seems to be leaning his forehead against his hands. The sight worries Vegard, somehow. He wonders if it’s all because of him. Earlier that morning, Vegard saw through the cracks of his façade, he knows Bård isn’t holding himself together as good as he makes believe. That’s what hurts Vegard the most, observing how his brother tries to hide his emotions, to push him away when there’s nothing they want and need more than to be together.

He moves towards the shelves with great discretion. His eyes drift between the two machines in front of him; the electric coffee maker and the coffee vending machine. Some people prefer to have black coffee just brewed rather than the one provided by the vending machine. He doesn’t hesitate on what to do. Between the two machine stand two columns of paper cups and one column of mugs. Vegard reaches for one of the paper cups, placing it on the drip tray. When he’s just about to press the button for the coffee to start brewing, his finger shakes. Every fibre of his body tells him to press the mochaccino button. _I know Bård, I know what he likes_. But before he does it, his mind goes back to the morning, to the disgusted expression that broke his brother’s features, to the ache he felt every time he sipped from the chocolate flavoured coffee. Instead, his index finger marks the cappuccino button. It doesn’t take long for the hot beverage to fill the paper cup.

The strong smell of coffee might have something to do with the way Bård turns in his seat the second he turns his gaze back to him. He doesn’t give Vegard the chance to look away, caught on spot.

“Hey, Bård.”

“Vegard,” his brother mumbles his name, voice calm. “Hey. I didn’t know you were here.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” he responds, which isn’t entirely a lie. He preferred to observe his brother rather than join him in something he wasn’t called for, in any case. “But I actually came here because of you.”

“Because of me?”

 _It’s all because of you_ , he wishes he could say, but holds backs. He knows better than that. Vegard breaks the visual contact to pay attention to the coffee. The smell is stronger now, filling his nostrils and making him wish for one himself. He has no intention on making another one, though. Vegard reaches for the cappuccino instead. White steam comes off the surface of the coffee, yet he doesn’t flinch when he wraps his palm around the paper cup. His sensibility to hot must be lower than his sensibility to cold.

“Yeah, to get your coffee,” Vegard continues, placing the paper cup before his brother. “Calle told me you wanted one, so I told him not to worry about it.”

“Oh, I did, yes.” Bård eyes him for a brief moment before looking away. “We spoke for some minutes in my office, so I asked if he could get me a coffee. He was taking so long I had to come here myself,” he explains. “And I had forgotten about the small interview, though, so I had to have it in here.”

“Actually, I didn’t know about it,” he casually adds.

“No. It was a small thing for a magazine. Just me.”

“Oh.”

Perhaps the interview will make a small column on a magazine, but it’s still important for him. To be left out of something like that feels so odd. Even when it’s only one of them holding an interview, the other is immediately notified of it. Letting the other know is instantaneous, though this time there seems to be no trace of regret in Bård’s voice.

Bård meets his gaze for a moment, though he’s back to using that distant expression. “But anyway, a cappuccino, huh?” He asks, glaring down at the coffee before him. His hand circles around the cup, thumb stroking the warm surface.

“Yeah. I figured that’s what you want.”

“Yeah, it is. Thanks.”

He could push Bård into explaining why, but he won’t. He won’t. He had the opportunity in the morning, and he has the opportunity now, but he knows it would bring him nothing but trouble. It wakes a curiosity in him, the need to know why Bård has changed all of the sudden. And yet, he remains calm, composed. Vegard relaxes against the back of his chair, folding his arms on his chest. His eyes fall on Bård, and he tries not to be too intrusive.

“Hey, Bård?”

“Yeah?”

“Before I left Calle, he also wanted to know if we were joining him tonight.”

“Oh, as in going to that Thai restaurant?”

“Yes.”

“Is it Calle or is it you?”

Confused, he turns to stare at him with an arched eyebrow. “What?”

“The one who wants to know.”

“Well, Calle is the one with the idea. If you want to go, we can join the guys there after work.”

There’s a short moment of complete silence, only broken by the low hum coming from Bård after he takes a short sip from the paper cup.

“It’s okay,” he says, rather coldly this time. He keeps staring at some point on the wall ahead. “You go with him if you want to. There’s a couple of things I still need to look into, so I’ll be working for a little longer.”

“But Bård, we could—…”

“Don’t worry about me,” Bård cuts him off, shooting him a flash look that Vegard isn’t able to read. “I was thinking about skipping dinner today, anyway.”

Without thinking much about it, Vegard reaches over, placing his hand on Bård’s forearm. They had the same contact in the morning, and Vegard just seeks for more of it now. He knows how loud those actions speak for them, a great silent way of communicating his wishes for physical contact. The motion is so familiar for them; to offer comfort in such a meaningless manner. Perhaps Bård has forgotten they carpooled to the office together, but Vegard hasn’t. He still wants to take Bård home, he wants them to spend time together, but… How can he take a decision on something he has no control over? He feels helpless.

“Fuck, Bård. Are you okay?”

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” His eyes move from Vegard’s face to the place his hand rests on his arm. Vegard knows it’s a way of letting him know the contact is not appreciated, but he still brushes his thumb over the delicate fabric of the striped jersey. “I mean it; don’t worry about me, Vegard. I’m sure you have a lot more to think about.”

Hell, he doesn’t know why, but the words make him sick to the stomach. There’s bitterness in his speech, a timbre on each of his words that accentuate the way he feels towards Vegard’s offer for comfort. It makes him feel as if he’s just broken some kind of rules. Shame stings his insides, so he lets go of Bård’s arm and stands up from the chair, acknowledging the rejection in his brother’s actions and words. Truly, his behaviour is enough for the older brother to understand he’s not wanted in there at that moment, that the disagreement is still alive between them.

Apparently, the words Bård spoke during the interview don’t change the effect the argument brought on them. Piece by piece, the hope that’s been present in Vegard’s heart starts to fade away.

“Okay. I’ll be working in the office,” he comments, in spite of knowing Bård won’t look for him in what’s left of their day. It’s a sad fact. “I’ll see you later today.”

“Fine, Vegard. See you later.”

Vegard nods, holding his gaze for some seconds. He wishes he could stay in there until there was no drop of coffee left on the paper cup, but he can’t do that. He can’t stay when his brother smoothly tells him to disappear. Instead, Vegard turns around and heads off the break room.

Apparently he isn’t going anywhere that night, either.

 

* * *

 

_Vegard couldn’t understand how, but things had changed in the blink of an eye._

_It was the way things always seemed to happen for them. In a rush, without planning anything beforehand. One second they would be okay, enjoying themselves in the most innocent way, and the next they would be drawn together by the mutual lust and longing for each other._

_The day had been cold ever since the morning. For more than an hour, Bård had been resting his head on Vegard’s shoulder as they idly watched a documentary on the mysteries of Easter Island. Neither of them was paying too much attention to the imagery playing on the TV screen, they were mainly resting from the usual stress generated by work. They had watched the documentary in the past, anyway, so there was nothing new to it. On a different context, Vegard had been feeling utterly happy to have his brother so close to him, to sense his warmth breathing against his collarbone and strands of hair brushing the inside of his neck. Even his hand had easily drifted into his brother’s lap, resting on the jeans covered thigh. A some point, Vegard had started rubbing circles over Bård’s thigh, knowing his little brother appreciated the contact as much as he did._

_They felt comfortable like that, just being in each other’s company— they felt perfect._

_And yet, the comfort they felt didn’t last for long. At some point during the ads break, Bård had turned his head at him. Suddenly, they were too close. The line that separated the brotherly love from desire became thinner than ever. Vegard had no idea what was happening, but in a matter of seconds, the two were leaning in and their mouths were crashing together, their lips fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle._

_At the contact, Vegard felt his heartbeat increase. Responding to the kiss was something he couldn't control. Years had passed by without Vegard getting to kiss those lips, and he always wondered whether he’d get to feel them against own again or not. That night he found out the answer in the best way he could. Their mouths were blending together into a deeper and more heated kiss, one that showed how desperate they were for each other. Bård kept a steady grip on his neck, whilst Vegard only kept his hand on his brother’s clothed thigh. It all felt incomparable. With eagerness, Vegard put everything he had into the kiss, allowing Bård’s tongue to slide into his mouth and meet his own. The beats of their hearts increased, and they became more and more high on each other than they’d ever been._

_Though the kiss ended just as it had started: with a sudden and unexpected motion. Promptly, Vegard was withdrawing from the kiss, turning down the only thing he had longed for many years: Bård’s lips. His brain was shouting words he couldn’t ignore-- was begging him to lean back to catch Bård’s lips in his own. That was what he wanted, after all, what he had been waiting for. His brother’s face was still close to his own, though his expression made Vegard feel guilty. The disappointment on his face was impossible to overlook._

_“We…I—” He choked on his own words.“This isn’t—”_

_“Don’t give me that excuse, Vegard. Don’t you dare tell me this isn’t right.” Bård backed further away from his face, yet he kept his hand on Vegard’s neck. The long fingers were so warm they made the contact burn. “I can’t do this anymore.”_

_Taken aback, all he did was nod at his brother’s words, unaware of the implications his silence would bring. If Bård couldn’t do it anymore, then Vegard would learn how to shape his life around that decision. With a heavy heart, he retrieved his hand off Bård’s thigh as if the contact made his skin burn, forcing some distance between them, even when his own body was begging for closeness. Vegard studied his hard cutting expression. He wasn’t good at talking about his feelings, Bård knew that— he’d always known that, out of the two of them, Vegard usually was the one who found it difficult to put whatever he felt into words. It was easier for Bård, but that night he seemed to be blinded by his own anger._

_“Fucking say something,” Bård spat out, as if reading his thoughts. “Don’t you dare to shut up now.”_

_“What do you want me to say?”_

_“Something.” He tilted his head to the right as he wrinkled his nose, face turning into a frown. The hand uncurled from Vegard’s neck, getting back to rest on Bård’s lap. “Anything. React to this.”_

_In truth, Vegard didn’t know how to properly respond to his words. Bård had backed away immediately after Vegard opened his mouth, and the words he uttered back at were very clear. All the insecurities and fears that he had been trying to suppress in the last years suddenly come afloat, blurring his thoughts. Maybe it was right, Bård couldn’t do it anymore. The time had passed, and maybe that lapse of time had made him realise he never felt the same. Or realise that, perhaps, the feelings that once used to be so intense and enduring faded away. Those things commonly happened. But not for Vegard. He never stopped feeling the same. He loved Bård, and if he kept thinking about it, the ache in his heart would grow deeper. Vegard blinked, trying to keep his feelings at bay while he tried to articulate his thoughts._

_“Well, if— uh, if you don’t want me anymore I think I can try to understand it, Bård,” he awkwardly blabbered as the wound in his chest grew deeper. He remembered having a similar conversation years ago, when all he wanted was a kiss while he reeked of alcohol. Though Bård’s rejection hadn’t been as severe. “I had told you that before.”_

_“What?” His brother shook his head, eyebrows knitting together. “What are you talking about?”_

_“You said you couldn’t do this any—”_

_“I said that I can’t do this anymore because it hurts me to know we both want this and we can’t have it,” Bård said with a soft yet intense voice. He truly meant what he said, and even if his words were meant to ease Vegard’s mind, they only made his worries grow bigger. “Not wanting you? Jesus, Vegard, I fucking want you, I want to kiss every corner of your face every time I see you laughing, I want to touch you in ways I’ve never done before, I want to—” He stopped, looking away for a mere instant. “I just want you, and I know you want me too.”_

_“I do.” Vegard could not lie. Not then, not ever. “I do want you. But we can’t be together.”_

_After he spoke, Bård said words that had been spoken years before: “We shouldn’t, but we can.”_

_The younger brother stood from the couch then, one hand on his hips, the other combing his dirty blond hair. Glaring up, Vegard studied his expression for a moment, wondering what did Bård want from him. He followed his steps, though, standing from the couch and standing in front of him. Bård wore a navy jumper that made him look pale, hair tucked behind his ears. Vegard studied him, though there was nothing in his face or in the way he looked that gave him a clue on how to act. He sighed deeply._

_“Goddammit, Bård, why are you doing this now?” He spoke. That was the only thing his mind allowed him to say. And there was so much hurt in his voice that he found it impossible to hide. His eyes felt hot refusing to blink in order to let Bård know how serious he was, how much those words were hurting him. “We’ve been good for years, even after knowing how we feel about each other, so why now?”'_

_“Why? Do you really want to know why?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Because it’s the third time I get to kiss your lips only to have you backing away immediately afterwards,” Bård spat out with bitterness. All the accent from his voice was reflected on his gaze. “That’s why. You just can’t keep doing that on purpose.”_

_“On_ purpose _!?” Vegard echoed, both alarmed and indignant at his brother’s blatant accusation. His hands moved a lot as he replied, pointing at himself and then following the rhythm of his speech. “I’m not doing this on purpose, Bård. I would never do something like this to tease you, let alone hurt you.”_

_“Really? Then why in hell are you doing it?”_

_He shot him a knowing look. “You know why. You know how I feel about you because you feel it, too.”_

_“See? You can’t even fucking say it out loud,” Bård hissed, and there was more than just anger in his voice. There was also hurt, and frighten. So much frighten. “But you know what? I can.”_

_After speaking, Bård took a couple of steps forward until he was standing mere centimetres away from Vegard. Only at that short distance he was able to notice just how troubled Bård was from all of the conflicted emotions; flushed face, blue eyes wide and watery, lips trembling as he spoke. And Vegard wished, oh, how he badly wished he could simply pull his brother into a hug and tell him he couldn’t control any of those intense emotions that crowded his mind. But he knew that if he did as much as touch Bård at that moment, his brother would punch him. He could sense it in the dark vibe that emanated from the larger body. They had never gotten very physical in the past —not seriously—, but there was a first time for everything, right? Vegard froze in spot as Bård took another step, their chests almost pressing together._

_“I love you,” Bård confessed, sounding so very small and vulnerable it made Vegard’s heart shrink. Three words that had never weighed so much. “But I can’t keep doing this. I need to know if you’re gonna have both feet in or both feet out. I can’t keep having bits of you every once in a while, every three or five fucking years to then pretend nothing has happened between us. It kills me inside me, don’t you see that? I can’t keep having you so close to me without being able to touch you, without being able to kiss you.” Bård looked away for a brief moment, and when their eyes met again, there were tears threatening to burst out. “I can’t keep pretending you don’t feel the same.”_

_“But you know I feel the same,” he uttered with assurance. “You’ve known all along.”_

_“Yes,” Bård immediately shot back. “And that’s why I need you to understand the reason I’m telling you this; I fucking love you, Vegard, but it’s more than just that. I need you as my colleague, as my friend, as my brother, as my lo—” He shook his head, eyebrows up. “I just need you as a whole, Vegard.”_

_The words left him breathless, just like a punch on the stomach would. They had never spoken those major words, and now, when they finally did, he felt so out of himself. Of course, hearing that confession brought a utter joy to his heart, because right there, what Bård had said was exactly the way he felt. Vegard loved Bård, loved him so hard he couldn’t put it into words, let alone say it out loud. The need to be with his brother in ways he’d always been in dreams was there, but Vegard couldn’t express it the way Bård wanted him to. He couldn’t. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t allow that to happen between them. What would be of them if they tried to be together and nothing worked out? Vegard couldn’t lose Bård— he couldn’t._

_“Bård, please…” Each word was hard to get out of his chest. A steady hand reached to cup his brother’s face, but Bård was swift enough to avoid it. Rejection felt strange. “Please, don’t make things harder for me.”_

_Bård bluffed. “For you? What? You think it’s been easy for me? That you’re the only one suffering?”_

_“That’s not what I’m saying,” he quickly jumped in. “Stop giving second meanings to my words.”_

_“Give me a break.”_

_“Fuck, Bård. It also kills me inside that we can’t be together. I want you. I want to be with you.”_

_“Then what’s stopping us, huh?”_

_“Life. That’s what’s stopping us from being together. We’re brothers, Bård, and that’s something we can’t change. I’m sorry,” he finally breathed out, eyelids dropping in frighten of seeing his brother’s face. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”_

_“Fuck you, Vegard,” Bård exclaimed as two silent tears rolled down his cheeks. “You can be sorry all you want. I know we are brothers, but the way we feel about each other isn’t going to change either. I think it’s time for you to realise that.” Surprisingly, even with the furious look Bård shot him, his brother was the one to reach for Vegard’s hand, fingers fitting together, and led it to his chest, resting right above his heart. Vegard opened his palm, feeling his brother’s skin under his touch. His heartbeat was clearly racing. “I’m just so tired of pretending what we feel for each other can’t be right when we both know it’s there. You fucking feel the same, and you know it is right. I know it is right. We can’t pretend we don’t feel what we do. Stop fighting this.”_

_Each one of his words hurt like tiny daggers digging on his back. And with the pass of the seconds, they only dug deeper. Vegard was trying to wrap his mind around everything, of seeing the situation from Bård’s perspective, but there was something he couldn’t truly agree to. They had never tried to deny their feelings for each other. Maybe Bård had, in secret, but Vegard never had done it. He’d had troubles accepting them, complicated and troubled as they were, but he’d never ignored them; he’d always known the feelings were there. In every touch, every look, every brush of their fingers— love had always been there. Every time his eyes set on his brother were a reminded of how big was his love, of how intense his feelings grew for him. And yes, as Bård had said, it wasn’t going to change anytime soon. They’d established that in the past._

_He couldn’t let them fight over that._

_With his mind set, Vegard didn’t care for his previous words. He ignored all kind of warnings and launched himself forward, closing all distance between them. His hand let go of Bård’s to hold his shoulder instead. His steps were firm and swift, not minding the caution in the blue irises. Vegard stood before him in mere seconds, and wrapped his arms around his brother. He placed his hands on his back, and Vegard felt Bård’s body trembling against his own. Could it be rage? Could it be fear? Could it be something else? He squeezed his body tightly, trying to offer him physical comfort._

_“We have never pretended we don’t feel the same,” he whispered into his ear. “We simply have learned how to live with it, haven’t we? Because it can’t be, Bård. You say it’s right, but… we can’t do this, even if it’s what I want the most in the world.”_

_“You keep saying we can’t be together,” Bård spoke, too. In spite of his previous harsh tone, his arms wrapped weakly around Vegard’s torso. “But we can. I won’t grow of tired of telling you; we can be together. It’s our choice, it’s our life.”_

_“It isn’t just what we want. What do you think would happen if the press found out about it? What do you think our friends would think of us? And, fuck, our family—”_

_Bård made a weird sound into his ear, a mix of sniff and sarcastic chuckle. “They wouldn’t have to know. Never mind the press, but our friends and— uh, them…if they found out and they loved us, they would be happy for us.”_

_Vegard truly wished he could share that way of thinking. Perhaps that would offer him some kind of solution for this particular issue. However, he held no answer for this. Were those his older brother instincts kicking in, or was there some other explanation behind his interest on the opinion of others? He felt a hollowness in his stomach quite was hard to ignore. Hypothetically speaking, their friends, maybe their closest friends would make an attempt on trying to understand  a deeper relationship. But their family… they would never dare to lay an eye upon them if they knew. They would think they were sick. Vegard didn’t want that for his brother._

_“You have to know I want to be with you, Bård. More than anything,” he mumbled after a moment, drawing his arms tighter. “But we have to think about others too. Our family— they wouldn’t understand, they wouldn’t accept us.”_

_“Is this truly about them…” Slowly, Bård made an attempt on letting go of Vegard’s body, but the older brother only kept him in place. He couldn’t allow them to drift apart. Not then. “Or is this about you?”_

_“Are you doubting my feelings for you?”_

_“I don’t know anymore.”_

_For some seconds, silence prevailed in the room. The two held onto the other, Vegard’s embrace tighter than the weak link of Bård’s arms on his torso. In spite of this, Vegard hid his face on Bård’s shoulder, breathing his scent in. He wanted to let him know how he felt, but it was difficult, so difficult. How could Bård doubt about the honesty of his words when Vegard had been battling for years with the struggle of crossing the brotherly line?_

_After what felt an instant, Bård let go of him. The absence of the large body pressed against his own left made a shiver run down his spine. With slow steps, Bård put distance between them. Vegard’s arms slid off his shoulders, and he suddenly felt hollow inside. His eyes opened to stare at the man standing before him._

_“I need you to make your choice. We can be all the things we are, and a little extra, or we can be nothing at all,” the man with golden hair said, speaking ever so serious. “You have to make up your mind about this. I can’t keep living like this.”_

_“Fuck.” Vegard blinked. It was all too much. Bård was asking too many things from Vegard— things he wasn’t sure he could give him. “Do I have to give you an answer now?”_

_“Do you have to think about it?”_

_“I do,” Vegard replied without a second of hesitation, knowing those kind of confirmations hurt Bård. “Before saying anything, I do.”_

_“How can’t you be sure of what you want?”_

_“I am sure of what I want, of what I feel, I just can’t give you an answer before thinking about this thoroughly,” he explained. “This isn’t as easy as you make it seem, Bård. Please, try to understand.”_

_For an instant Bård looked away, and Vegard was sure his brother was going to break down right there. Nonetheless, Bård’s gaze met his own immediately afterwards. The tears were still present in his eyes, they refused to come out. Were the situations reversed, Vegard would probably feel just as Bård did. Because he knew it, he could read the words that didn’t leave his mouth yet._

_“Bård. Say something.”_

_As response, Bård merely blinked, and suddenly the tears were gone. His face was wiped off all the hurt and betrayal it wore a brief moment ago. Vegard wanted to know how was he able to do it, how could he hide his emotions so well in such a vulnerable moment. It only reflected how tired Bård was of this— how drained he was from trying to make Vegard see what he meant. Yet it was difficult for the older brother to ignore his own way of thinking. It shattered his heart to comprehend they were not agreeing in something that was so relevant in their lives._

_“Fuck, Vegard…” Bård took a deep breath, rubbing his temples before meeting Vegard’s eye. “I can’t keep arguing with you, just— please, leave.”_

_“Bård, don’t—”_

_Before Vegard could say a word, could try to pull him into another embrace, could try to do something to make it better, Bård took a step away from him. Vegard’s heart was slowly sinking, and the more distance Bård put between them, the more his heart sunk. Vegard turned around, following his brother’s moves closely. Bård walked past him and stood by the door. He fumbled on his pockets until a tingling sound ringed in the room. He opened the door of the apartment, and those beautiful blue eyes, now dry, found Vegard’s._

_“I mean it, Vegard.”_

_He took a couple of steps forward. “Don’t do this.”_

_“Vegard—”_

_“Please, just—”_

_“Get the hell away.”_

_Never in the past he’d been thrown off Bård’s apartment. It was a deep cut, something that would take time to heal. Although Vegard also felt guilty, because he knew Bård needed an answer now. It was just that Vegard couldn’t give him one, not if the younger brother wanted honesty. This would change everything, this would make their dynamics change, for good or for bad. Vegard needed time to take a decision, though he didn’t think the time without also create a wall between them._

_“Okay,” he found the energies to say. “Let me grab my coat.”_

_Bård nodded, glaring at him throughout the progress. Vegard felt his gaze on him, calculating his movements. He picked up his black coat off the rack, arms going through the sleeve loops. He put it on, fixing the neck of the coat. Vegard walked towards the door until he stood in front of Bård._

_“Is this it?” He wondered out loud. “You’re throwing me out?”_

_“I’m not throwing you out. I just— I can’t keep arguing.”_

_“Can’t you?”_

_“No, I can’t, so _—_ leave, please.”_

_Bård looked away, and Vegard did, too._

_In silence, Vegard walked through the doorway, fighting the urges to search for his eyes once again. He knew he couldn’t do that, though. He felt resigned. Bård was mad, and he wanted him gone. Vegard quite seconded the feeling— he didn’t like fighting either. There was nothing left for him to do or say when he couldn’t offer the answer Bård demanded from him._

_After the argument, Bård needed to be alone for a while._

_And Vegard, well, Vegard had a lot to think about._

 

* * *

 

Three days have passed by since the day Vegard left Bård’s apartment without uttering a word. Three days full of thinking, of trying to come up with a solution for everything. Nonetheless, Vegard still feels helpless about it, apart from the shot of guilt he gets whenever he notices Bård is blankly staring at the emptiness. That’s not who Bård is, this grumpy and emotionless mask he keeps on is not what his insides hide. Vegard hates knowing the reason behind that behaviour. Still, he doesn’t know for certain what must be going through his mind, but he figures it must not be pretty.

It is still raining outside. The weather hasn’t changed much throughout the day. With his right left on top of left knee, Vegard patiently waits outside the office for Bård to be done with the day work. He sits by one of the black couches near the cubicles. Most of the workers have gone home by now, so the place remains quiet. Even Calle and Magnus left nearly an hour ago. Their friends’ final decision was to go to the Thai place, and Vegard simply told them to confirm whether the restaurant is good or not. From the moment Bård hesitated on answering his question, Vegard knew he wasn’t going to go anywhere without his brother. On several occasions, Vegard wants to believe there’s no a precise codependency between the two of them, but the thought of being in those kinds of nights out without Bård makes him uncomfortable. Who else would understand what he wants to say without the need of words? Who else would be there to get all of his lame jokes and talk about literally anything that comes to his mind?

It’s often quite hard to find someone with whom you can be yourself without holding anything back. Lucky for Vegard, he never had to look for someone like that. Bård was brought into his life when he was almost three years old, and ever since then, he’s had that special someone everyone hopes to find one day. It’s true, he didn’t realise it right away— but, with the pass of the years, Bård became the person that occupied that special spot in his life. And he still does. He will be the owner of that place for the rest of their lives.

Vegard head lifts when the sound of footsteps becomes louder and clearer. Bård approaches him in his own fashion, the lights at his back all turned off. At least he’s done with work, that eases some of Vegard’s worries. He doesn’t stand up the second their eyes meet, he waits until Bård stands in front of him to properly address him.

“Ready?” he inquires with firmness, eyeing Bård from the spot he sits at.

“Yeah,” Bård replies shortly. The jacket hangs loosely off his left shoulder, his index finger hooked to the neck. He walks towards the door that indicates the exit, yet he stops before going outside. He turns to look at Vegard. “Let’s go.”

“Fine.”

Picking his own jacket off, Vegard stands from the comfortable couch. He doesn’t bother putting it on, perhaps a bit of cold breeze blowing at him will do him good. He also picks his smartphone off the table, putting it into his front pocket before turning to look at Bård. He stays right where Vegard left him; standing by the doorway with his hands shoved into his pockets. The golden haired man seems to be expecting something from him, yet Vegard knows that what he’s got to offer is not what Bård wants from him. He could easily pat his shoulder in a brotherly manner, or put his hand on the back of his neck as they make their way out of the building, but he won’t do it. Bård was very clear that morning, and he’d also been very clear the day they argued.

All he wants is an answer from Vegard, the answer to the hardest question he’s ever been asked.

Without daring to touch Bård, Vegard walks past him and heads to the outside of the building.

It’s probably going to be a long and silent drive home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It...took me a long time to finally update this. I feel the need to apologise, but really, university has been draining me alive for the past four months (⊙‿⊙✿) I've barely had time to read or write. And, well, when I do have the time to write, I've also had some other small ideas I've been trying to write down in the meantime. 
> 
> This is the first part of chapter 7. The second part will *hopefully* be posted soon.
> 
> A huge thanks to all of you who have been following this story! It means a lot to me to read your comments and to know your opinions, so, seriously, thank you! And a special thanks to [sheslikealostflower](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2769608/chapters/10382559/edit) for being there in the writing process of this chapter, and well, for everything ♥ ily.
> 
> I hope you guys aren't too mad at me for the way this turned out to be, huh?

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and comments are very well appreciated ~ ✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:* \\(◕‿◕✿)


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